


Walk Me to the End of the World, Darlin'

by warmsummerbreeze



Category: Greg Lestrade - Fandom, Jonhlock - Fandom, Mycroft Holmes - Fandom, Mystrade - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst!, Emotional Abuse, Kidnapping, Lies, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmsummerbreeze/pseuds/warmsummerbreeze
Summary: In which a happily domestic Mystrade are interrupted by someone who wants to see them broken. Mycroft is forced to pull a Sherlock and dissociate completely from Lestrade to keep him safe. The two exchange letters while parted but will Mycroft get to the bottom of he who dare tear them apart? Idk this is my first fic EVER, I'm honored it's Mystrade. I hope y'all are able to enjoy.
Relationships: Johnlock, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mystrade - Relationship
Comments: 66
Kudos: 43





	1. Strange and Awkward Beginnings

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade has grown accustomed to long, tiring days being in the field he is in and thanks to a particular Sherlock Holmes being the insufferable child he can be. Despite the long shifts and strange hours, Gregory always finds comfort when returning home to his loving partner, Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft Holmes, serving humbly as a civil servant with a minor government position, was also no stranger to life and death situations, long tiring days and constant conflict and chaos. His job, no, his duty proved it excruciatingly difficult at times to feel free. Above all this, however, Mycroft always finds comfort when returning home (even after being gone for days, weeks, months) to his loving partner, Gregory Lestrade.

\--------

It had been strange and awkward in the beginning. Their relationship had been a long one but never reached beyond the bounds of a particular professional matter: Sherlock. Somewhere along the way, things changed. The DI began looking forward to the posh black cars that pulled up around the curb waiting to transport him to Mycroft. The British Government himself had grown so fond of Lestrade he would eagerly await any chance that their paths would cross ways apart from their established professional relationship.

Feelings were shared on the evening of a rainy Tuesday. Lestrade was bidding his goodbyes to an annoyed John and Sherlock after the younger Holmes had gotten himself a light beating during a case. As he braced himself for the cold night, pulling up the lapels of his coat and ducking his head at the heavy raindrops pouring from the sky, he saw him standing there. Mycroft, shielded from the downpour under his umbrella, cigarette at hand letting out small puffs of air creating light airy clouds in the darkness of the night.

“Detective Inspector” he called out.

Gregory peaked his head out from his coat, silvery locks sticking out in disarray collecting beads of rainwater at the tips.

“Hey Mycroft” the DI nervously called out. “Didn’t realize you were still here”. Gregory swayed on his feet anxiously. Lestrade was perfectly aware of the effect the elder Holmes had on him. A crush, one would say. His heart would start thumping loudly in his chest and his pupils dilating at the sight of him. He knew it was pointless. He had far too much experience with Sherlock to know a relationship with the colder, elder Holmes would be impossible. Yet he couldn’t help but stare at him longingly whenever he was within eyesight. He yearned for the stern ginger without explanation. There was something in Mycroft he found irresistible but goddess forbid he ever let the other know about this intense feeling. That secret would go with him to the grave.

Mycroft took another puff from his cigarette. “I wanted to again extend my gratitude to you, Detective Inspector, for all that you do for my brother. You very well know as much as I that he can be...challenging to work with. But unlike me Inspector, you seem to have managed very well with him. I commend you for that.” Mycroft takes a drag and sighs “Thank you for...being an extension of me and caring for him like a brother” he murmurs, almost barely audible.

Lestrade stands still, taking in Mycroft’s words as he glances at his tall figure leaning against a railing. He sucks in a breath, but finds himself unable to say anything. The DI, feeling bold in the moment, strides directly in front of Mycroft.

For a moment, the only sounds echoing in the background are those of the raindrops hitting the pavement and their ragged breathing as they share an intense gaze. Mycroft straightens up as if gathering himself away from the brief moment of honesty and emotion he had shared with Gregory.

Dusting his suit and clearing his throat, he is again speaking to the DI “Inspector Lestrade, I am afraid it is getting rather late and I must take my leave now. Thank you again. Have a pleasant evening.” he lets out smoothly, but makes no move to leave.

“Mycroft…” Gregory whispers as he reaches for the back of Mycroft’s neck, curling his fingers around the ginger locks and tugging him down towards his own lips. Mycroft makes no move to return the kiss within the first few seconds and Gregory’s mind begins to race as his heart hammers away in his chest. Just then, he feels the soft, warm lips move against his own and a strong hand holding his waist firmly, pulling him closer to Mycroft’s warmth and under the umbrella, away from the harshness of the storm.

As they pull away, Gregory looks up through soaking lashes searching in the depth of Mycroft’s light orbs for a sign, any sign of enjoyment or hatred or any emotion for all that mattered. Mycroft gazed into the dreamy chocolaty orbs eyeing him nervously, and his glance softened.

“Detective Inspector, there is no need to worry” he murmurs in a low voice, “I did very much thoroughly enjoy that kiss” he continues and strokes tenderly at the Lestrade’s lower lip with his thumb. Gregory sighs in relief, gives him a warm smile and lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head lightly “You Holmes’...”

Mycroft hums as he pulls the DI to his chest and rests his head on top of the soaking silver strands. Gregory takes in a deep breath, sighing as he embraces Mycroft’s warmth, feels his heart beat and smiles at his scent. Suddenly he pulls out of the firm grip and Mycroft quirks his brow.

“M’sorry but…” Lestrade begins “If we’re going to be doing...this” he gestures the air between both of them “You are going to have to stop calling me Detective Inspector”

The corners of Mycroft’s lips quirk up into a small smile, but a smile for Mycroft nevertheless, and places his hand back on Gregory’s waist pulling him close once more.

“That arrangement can be made...Gregory” Mycroft smiles once more kissing Lestrade’s hair, hailing one of his black cars and ushering them inside before pulling away from Baker Street and into the rainy night.

\--------

It had been strange and awkward in the beginning. When Sherlock deduced the change in relationship between Mycroft and Lestrade he threw a historic fit and proceeded to succumb into a royal sulk for the entirety of the day.

“Geoff, Mycroft?!” Sherlock huffed, “Really?!?” he stomped his way to his chair, crossed his arms and turned to face the other way like an offended child.

“Sherlock!” John warned from beside Gregory.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head, right hand pinching the bridge of his nose and left leaning against his trusty umbrella. “Brother mine…” he began in an irritated tone but quickly refrained from any witty remarks towards his dreadful sibling. It simply wasn’t worth it, Sherlock in that state would pay no mind. Thus Mycroft refused to let his younger brother’s tantrum ruin the happiness that being with Gregory had granted him.

Mycroft glanced back at Gregory, who shared a look with him and chuckled, shaking his head lightly. Mycroft responded with a small smile and soft eyes.

John, meanwhile, cleared his throat in his this-is-very-awkward way and smiled at both Mycroft and Lestrade.

“Well I must say I’m a bit shocked…” his voice wandered, “but I’m extremely pleased.” he grinned patting Gregory in the back.

“Unless…?” he trails off again, “Wait a minute, did something happen? Is Mycroft terminally ill? Is the world finally coming to an end?!”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, “No Doctor Watson” he muttered, “No such a thing”

“In that case” John began once more, “You two must be truly happy”. He smiles again and lets out a small laugh “Bloody hell, incredible” he laughs again and shakes his head.

“Ugh!, dull, John” Sherlock groaned from his position in the chair, “Stop that this instant, and Mycroft get out of my flat! Take Grant with you please and never come back” he huffs once more.

Gregory throws his head back and lets out a roaring laugh reaching out to grab Mycroft’s bicep to steady himself. Mycroft, both hands holding his umbrella for support, nods at John “It was certainly nice seeing you Doctor Watson”

The elder Holmes heads for the door with one Gregory Lestrade attached to his arm.

\--------

Mycroft sits at his mahogany desk, glazing one last time over some signed paperwork and deals. He lefts out a sigh and twirling his graphite pen, he glances at the clock. 8:00 P.M. it reads. Mycroft slowly rises from his sitting position and closes his computer before placing it in its safe. He tugs on his pinstripe suit jacket and over that his coat. Anthea appears in the office as he tucks away his mobile and keys.

“Mr. Holmes your car is ready for you, sir” she delivers smoothly

“Yes, thank you Anthea” Mycroft replies and begins moving towards the door “Do have a good evening” he says making his way downstairs where the driver is holding the car door open. He slides inside and carefully lays his hands over his crossed knee, heart swelling at the thought of seeing his Gregory.

The car glides to a stop in front of Mycroft’s impressive estate and he makes his way up the path reaching the door. Just as he turns the knob of the door and opens it to shuffle inside, he is hit with the delicious smell of dinner. Oh Gregory he thinks how lovely you are.

Mycroft hangs his coat and suit jacket on the rack and strides through the foyer.

“Hey, love!” Greg calls out, peeking his head from the kitchen. “Have a long day?” he questions as Mycroft begins to unwind but notes a bit of stiffness on his shoulders and tension in his eyebrows.

Mycroft does not utter a word, only steps into the kitchen once more embracing the warmth and aroma of the atmosphere, before settling his arms around Greg’s waist and his chin on his shoulder, pressing up his body against Greg’s back. He hums and tenderly places a kiss on Greg’s shoulder blade.  
“Nothing out of the ordinary, my darling” he murmurs into Greg’s hair. “You arrived merely an hour before I, and are tired yourself, you know you don’t need to feel obliged to do such a thing” he gestures at the pots and pans on the stove.

Greg chuckles “But gorgeous…” he says sweetly “I know you can’t possibly resist my cooking! You know you love it” he says stroking Mycroft's hand “It’s my well kept secret talent reserved only for those I love most…” he explains in a hushed voice and chuckles again.

“Hmm you seem to have got me there” Mycroft hums and continues, “I can’t resist your magnificent cooking it smells positively divine in this kitchen”

Greg smiles and Mycroft pulls away.

“May I help, my dearest?” the ginger inquires.

Greg shakes his head lightly in response “I’m almost done darlin’, why don’t you change into something more comfortable while I plate up eh?”

Mycroft nods in response and presses a quick kiss on Gregory’s cheek before heading up the stairs while unbuttoning his waistcoat.

When he returns he finds the table set and Gregory holding two plates of steaming dinner. He sets them down and pours a glass of wine for himself and some scotch for Mycroft.

The ginger quirks an eyebrow as he slides into his seat. “Staying away from the beer tonight Gregory?” he questions

Greg shoots him a smile and nods “Trying to stay off the carbs, gorgeous” he grins and takes a sip of wine before digging into his plate.

Mycroft chuckles, sipping a bit of scotch as he watches him before also beginning his own meal. He savours a forkful in his mouth, closes his eyes, tilts his head back and hums in delight at the flavor of his lover's incredible meal.

Gregory looks up and chuckles watching his beloved enjoying himself.

After the pleasant meal the dishes are stacked neatly in the sink and the pair make their way upstairs to retire for the night. Gregory slides into his flannel pajamas, a crontast to Mycroft's soft silk ones, and slips into the bathroom where Mycroft was getting ready for bed. Both hit the bed like deadweights and crawl under the soft covers. Mycroft settles behind Gregory and snakes an arm around his waist, taking in the scent of his silvery locks and presses a soft kiss on his exposed neck. Greg shifts and turns to face Mycroft, chocolaty orbs melting into Mycroft's gaze, they smile and close their eyes for the night.

“G’night Myc” Gregory murmurs lowly, “I love you”

“Sleep well my Gregory” Mycroft replies, stroking Greg’s back softly “I certainly love you too”

They drift into some much needed sleep holding each other in a trusting embrace. It had been strange and awkward in the beginning, but those days were certainly long gone.


	2. Sir, It's an emergency...

Mycroft is the first to rise in the morning. Flickering his lashes open, he turns and smiles at the sight of Greg snuggled up against his side, head resting on his chest and arm gripping at Mycroft’s waist. Mycroft allows himself a couple seconds of bliss, basking in the heavenly light peaking through the curtains of their massive master bedroom, before reluctantly tugging away from Gregory and rising out of bed. He faintly hears a groan from the warmth he just abandoned, but continues to make his way to the bathroom to begin getting ready for his day.

By the time Greg awakens again, he is met with the image of Mycroft fixing his cuffs in front of the mirror and fussing over his tie. Letting out a soft laugh, he moves from the bed and strides over to his deeply focused lover. Greg picks up a tie he fancies and begins to loop it around Mycroft's neck, tugging and adjusting until achieving the perfect knot. 

“Gregory” Mycroft begins, “I am perfectly capable of picking and tying my own tie” he huffs.

Greg chuckles “Sure thing, gorgeous” followed by a quick “Mornin’ ” before he is pulling Mycroft by his, now fitted, tie and into a brief kiss. 

“Have a great day, love” Lestrade says softly looking into Mycroft’s gaze, “I’ll see you tonight, no funny business” he whispers more sternly before he is paddling off into the loo. 

“Of course, my dearest” Mycroft calls out, “Tonight” he says more quietly to himself as he heads out, black car waiting for him as he steps into a new day. 

\----------

Mycroft,  _ the  _ british government, is diligently working in his office when he hears a knock coming from the other side of the door. 

“Mr. Holmes, sir” Anthea calls from the other side “It’s an emergency”, her voice wavering slightly as she delivers the message and steps into the posh office. 

Mycroft eyes her and sits back in his plush chair, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms as he does so. 

“Well, Anthea, I sure do know that by now you have an understanding of what a true  _ emergency  _ constitutes,” Mycroft says smoothly. “Please do hastily deliver the news”. 

Anthea would normally scowl at Mr.Holmes’ witty comment but at the moment she remains in her tense position and fixed gaze. 

“I’m afraid Mr. Holmes…” She begins, “The New Scotland Yard have noted that the DI, Mr. Lestrade, sir, hadn’t returned from the bathroom for over 2 hours after which they proceeded to enter and found no one inside…window shattered” Mycroft’s gaze turns stone cold but says nothing urging Anthea to explain further. 

“Our security cameras seem to have failed in capturing the particular moment in which Detective Inspector Lestrade was taken” Anthea’s eyes wander nervously before concluding “We were able to track his location only for a few minutes before...his watch must’ve been removed and destroyed, sir...we are at the moment unaware of his whereabouts.”

Gregory wore a special watch, one gifted to him by Mycroft. A gift given to him as a token of love, and a show of care, in that embedded, was a GPS tracking device. Mycroft, had opened himself to completely to Gregory, had let him into his life and allowed him to become his new normal. He cared far too deeply about the safety of his lover and bestowed the gift to Gregory exactly one month into dating (haven been the longest time Mycroft had tolerated anyone as a potential partner). At first, Greg was skeptical of the offering, found it a bit invasive and controlling but within seconds realized there was little if anything at all he could ever keep from Mycroft. From that day on, Greg wore it proudly without fault, though Mycroft prayed he would never have to resort to the watch’s hidden secrets.

Silence permeated through the office as Mycroft’s cold glare penetrated Anthea’s orbs. 

“You are now in charge of this operation, Anthea” Mycroft’s voice resonated through the room, “See that Detective Inspector Lestrade is found and returned safely home, I believe this is a case of scenario 0427 though enough evidence has not been collected to prove such a conclusion  _ yet. _ ” 

“But sir…” Anthea began to protest, “Would it not be more fitting for you to...take charge?...I believe you would be the most capable-” 

“If this is a case of kidnapping in hopes of acquiring certain  _ confidential information _ , Anthea” he continued, “I must, most definitely, refrain from any sort of personal involvement with this matter...he…” Mycroft cleared his throat, “He knows what to do”, He said with finality. Anthea nodded firmly and began to walk back out, turning around briefly to say over her shoulder “I shall keep you updated if evidence is presented, sir.” 

“Do.” Mycroft nods curtly as the door shuts after her and he sighs, slouching in his chair. 

\-----------

_ “Gregory” Mycroft called out to his lover who was in the living room _

_ “Yes, love?” Greg said as he approached the lean ginger  _

_ “There is something I must talk to you about” He murmured, “It’s a rather delicate matter and of significant importance”  _

“ _ Alright love, shoot” Lestrade said lightly with gentle eyes  _

_ Mycroft cleared his throat and began “My job...it’s, as you may have already realized, one that utilizes discretion and danger as its foundations and success” _

_ Greg nods and listens patiently.  _

_ “There...um....perhaps there is no way of saying this lightly thus I shall just say it” Mycroft stated, “There are people in this world who...aren’t very happy with me or british politics or have against our queen and our country. They will do anything to, extract confidential information and as you know that is one of the pillars of this job. You, my beautiful, have become...well...a part of me. They will know. Perhaps in instances, those who stoop to such a level, can try to...use you...against me, because I love you so much.” he pauses “And I would do anything to keep you safe…” Mycroft trails off trying to find the right words to say next. _

_ Greg eyes him cautiously and Mycroft begins to speak again, “I-”  _

_ “Mycroft” Greg voices tenderly, “I know...how much your work means to you, you are a Holmes after all” he chuckles softly but Mycroft’s eyes reflect unexpressed worry. _

_ “Love....” Greg murmurs, chocolaty orbs searching Mycroft's eyes. Oh and Mycroft just melts when looking into those eyes, he could get lost in them and he very much would like to someday.  _

_ “If such a thing were to happen one day” Greg’s voice echoes through the walls of the study, “I will let them take me, I will make them believe I am of importance, that their trick would work, that you would come rescue me at whatever the price” Greg’s voice drops to a whisper, “But Myc...I know. I understand. If you are willing to sacrifice to have me by your side then I, too, will sacrifice to stay here. I would endure anything they bring upon me Myc, whatever the pain, but I shall never, ever give them what they want” he sighs “So long as you promise to send Sherlock or someone else to rescue me” he concludes with an airy laugh.  _

_ “Grego-”  _

_ “Myc issalright, love, I know”  _

_ “I really wish it didn’t have to be this way”  _

_ “But it is” Greg shares a warm smile “I love you, Mycroft. I would follow you to the end of the world, I can do this.”  _

_ At this Mycroft lefts out a breath he did not know he was holding and pulls the DI flush to his chest, taking in his scent and stroking the silvery hairs at the nape of his neck.  _

_ “I love you more, my darling...my world.”  _

_ \--------- _

Scenario 0427 is what it had become. Labeled, for no particular reason, with that number other than the fact that it was random enough to catch the attention of Mycroft when needed, he would know exactly what it was about. 

Certain things were to be expected out of scenario 0427. One was Gregory’s cooperation in the instance of a kidnapping, which had already been agreed upon. The second part was the threat. What they would ask for in return of letting his Gregory go unharmed. Well, not completely unharmed, they had to first show Gregory in a state of distress to scare Mycroft into doing things he shouldn't for the sake and livelihood of his beloved. 

Anthea waited anxiously for this second part. To be expected in photo format, perhaps Gregory with a knife against his throat or tied up to a chair. Gregory promising to be a tough cookie in the horrid instance of a kidnapping would buy Anthea’s team a lot of time to try and locate him, send a team of military security and dissolve the situation without any leaked information. 

But hours had passed and there was no lead. No threats. No photographs of a mangled Greg. No outrageous demands for him back alive. Nothing at all.

\---------

Lestrade had been having a lousy day at work. He had mountains of paperwork to complete, one main reason was of course Sherlock, and the morning had just begun. After downing, already, close to 4 cups of coffee, Lestrade slid out of his office to use the loo. 

As he washed his hands, Lestrade heard the unlocking of a stall behind him and looked up to the mirror. The man approached the sink next to Lestrade and began washing his hands. Just as Gerg was turning to leave, he felt a strong force wrap around his neck gripping him flush against another body. Greg thrashed and pulled at the arm suffocating him, finally resolving in biting down on the flesh, earning a yelp from the man. As Greg broke free and headed for the door, another man broke through the window looking out to the street and punched Greg straight to the nose. Lestrade began to bleed and quickly used his hand to try and stop the flow, soon enough however, he was being dragged towards the window. He gripped desperately at the walls and called out for help. The other man, who had quickly recovered, swiftly pulled out a gun and drove the butt straight to Lestrade’s temple, effectively knocking him out. Both pulled at Lestrade’s limp body, not bothering to cover the evidence.

  
  


\--------

As the day came to a close, Anthea remained uneasy. She had yet to receive anything from Gregory’s captors and was beginning to become increasingly concerned as the hours flew by. The bathroom Gregory had used at the New Scotland Yard was closed off for evidence, the broken window and small blood stains on the walls were all they had to go off. An important piece was missing. The captor’s motives. Surely if they had wanted something out of Mycroft they would have already sent their demands, but nothing had arrived. 

_ Perhaps they are waiting it out,  _ thought Anthea,  _ perhaps they are adding to the suspense, or...perhaps this is different. _

“Sir'' Anthea called out to Mycroft as they headed for the lift down to the lobby. “If I may suggest...including Mr. Sherlock into our investigatio-”

“He was never a part of the outline for this scenario” Mycroft interrupted. 

“But, sir” Anthea responded, “We haven’t got any evidence that would point this to be a scenario 0427” she sighed, “Surely they would have sent something by now, a sign a photograph, a phone call, but it's been a day…” she trailed off. 

“What are you implying, Anthea” Mycroft says in an icy tone, eyes hard as stone 

“Sir” she begins “Perhaps this might be a personal matter” 

“Define what you mean,  _ Anthea _ ” Mycroft says in an irritated tone.

“Perhaps sir, they want nothing but to hurt  _ you _ ” she continues “On a personal level, the satisfaction of knowing they will hurt you by keeping Inspector Lestrade is enough that they would wish for nothing more.”

“You are implying this would be an act by someone who would personally want to harm  _ me” _ he states, “Revenge.”

Mycroft’s look hardens. 

They reach the lobby and Mycroft slips into his car.

“We need to make an additional stop, Leonard”, the driver nods and waits for further instruction. 

Mycroft lays his hands upon his umbrella and realization hits that there is no Gregory to go home to on this night. He clears his throat.

“221b Baker Street.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIII happy valentine's day y'all. I know this bathroom excuse is a little lame but i couldn't think of any other place Mycroft wouldn't have a camera at! hahah, either way I hope you enjoy next chapter will be up tomorrow! <3.


	3. Please

Mycroft rushes past Mrs. Hudson, file at hand, and starts up the stairs to Sherlock and John’s dreadful flat. 

“Oh, dear”, Mrs. Hudson fussed, “Mycroft-” she tries to call out but upon receiving no response shakes her head a sighs, “These boys haven’t got any manners…” her voice trailing off as she enters her own flat. 

Mycroft barely knocks before he is pushing through the door, vivid eyes searching Sherlock, who is at the moment sitting in his chair, chin resting on his tented hands. 

“Mycroft”, he starts, not even sparing his elder brother a glance, “Leave now.”

Mycroft only moves forward and drops the file in front of him. The night is rather young still but he is tired. Yearns to return to a home filled with love. Wishes that this was just some twisted dream he can awake from and greet pleasant reality. He does not want this to be real at this moment. 

“Mycroft”, Sherlock’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts “Leave.”

“Oh Sherlock for the love of christ”, Mycroft’s voice is cold and clipt “Refrain from behaving like a child while in my presence and take a look at this case”

“Why ever would I do that?”, Sherlock snorts. 

“Because I’m asking you” 

John is watching the exchange from the kitchen, making tea. 

“Since when does that matte-” 

“SHERLOCK”, Mycroft roars, exasperated, “for ONCE just…”, he runs his hands through his ginger locks and looks up meeting Sherlock’s steel blue eyes “Please.” he says finally. This outburst was quite out of character for Mycroft, emotion was never a valuable enough asset to implement in his behavior. 

Mycroft then turns his head towards John, “Please” he repeats again in a hushed voice.

John strides towards the living area and picks up the file, feeling Sherlock’s irritated gaze on him.

“John, waste no time with such affai-” 

“Shut up, Sherlock”, John says, Sherlock scowling in response before the file is shoved directly in front of his face. 

On the cover, a photograph of the New Scotland Yard bathroom, shattered window and blood stains on the wall evident. Sherlock frowns but John’s disapproving look forces him to look at the only other page in the file. 

_ Subject: Detective Inspector Lestrade, Gregory missing from last location in bathroom since 10:00 A.M.  _

_ Evidence: None possible by the CCTV. Photograph of bathroom after subject was presumably taken. No word from possible captors. Tracking stripped or destroyed.  _

“What do you want, Mycroft”, Sherlock looks up again.

“My involvement in this case is not safe”, Mycroft delivers smoothly 

“Just give them what they want”, Sherlock says as he thrusts the file back to John and returns to his thinking posture. 

“Sherlock, have your skills  _ dulled  _ since our last encounter?” Mycroft says incredulously, “Do you  _ see _ any notes about the captor’s demands?”, he scoffs.

“So what?” Sherlock eyes him.

“So they might not want anything”, John cuts in “Is it possible they just want to...get on your nerves?”

Mycroft quirks his eyebrow, “John, you could be fit to take over Sherlock’s business if it happens to fail miserably due to his incompetence” Sherlock scowls at this and Mycroft continues “Revenge”, he says, “Anthea has brought to my attention that this could be a vengeful scheme.”

“Fine”, Sherlock murmurs almost inaudibly, not looking up, not meeting his brother’s eyes in fear of seeing something in them he would find utterly  _ repulsive _ . 

Mycroft straightens up and exhales deeply. He turns and nods to John before making his way to the door. 

“Anthea will be in contact”, he states with finality and closes the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing this chapter and was going to make it longer but ehhh i'll just post what i have anyway since I'm uploading so late at night might as well put it up. Please look forward to chapter 4! it will be the second half of what this chapter was supposed to be. <3


	4. Pleasure to Finally Meet You

Greg groans as he flickers his eyes open slowly adjusting to the light. His head is pounding with a raging headache and he feels his stiff body is bound up. Looking down he notices he’s tied to a chair, the room is dark save for the dingy lightbulb illuminating the large warehouse. _How cliche_ , Lestrade thinks to himself, _so...dull_ he thinks in Sherlock's voice and briefly allows himself to chuckle but quickly realizes that is not a good idea as his body screams from the sudden shake of his laugh. 

Soon enough he starts scanning the area familiarizing himself with his surroundings and searching for any sign of the two men who assaulted him. Narrowing his eyes, Lestrade notes a flickering light not too far away from where he is currently bound and attempts to move closer to the source. He hears a faint chuckle from the direction of the light and stills.

“Detective Inspector has awoken” the voice calls out, booming through the room.

Lestrade hears another pair of footsteps shuffling towards him and soon the two men present themselves a few feet away from the DI. 

“Hello” the other voice says, cool, smooth and collected. “How nice to finally be able to meet you Inspector” he says with a smirk.

Gregory huffs, wanting to reply something witty but soon realizing his mouth is sealed shut.

“Cat got your tongue, eh?” The first man, tall and muscular, chuckles as he steps closer, inches away from Lestrade’s face, so close he can feel his breath. The man leans into his ear and whispers “It’s rude you know, not greeting someone in return.” 

He pulls back and lands a firm fist directly on Lestrade’s nose, his head thrown back from the force of the blow. Soon enough, a violent nosebleed ensues. 

“Aw” the man whines, “I was hoping for a nice _crunch_ there, maybe next time…” he rubs his knuckles lightheartedly and offers a devilish smile. 

Lestrade, dizzy, begins committing his captor’s faces to memory, in case the information is needed for evidence. Both men are dressed well, certainly paid well doing the job that they do. Nice blazers, leather shoes and luxurious watches on their wrists. The first man proudly sports a small scar right under his pale green eyes, his hair is long, enough to cover his eyes but is well kept. The other captor is shorter, eyes dark as night and hair jet black, kept short almost military style. 

Gregory is brought out of his thoughts when the shorter man approaches him this time. Carefully, he peels off the mouth tape and tosses to the side on the concrete floor. 

“Now, _Inspector_ ”, he begins with his smooth, effortless voice, “How do you do? Missing home? I’m sure your _beloved_ is missing you dearly tonight” he almost purrs. 

At the mention of Mycroft, Greg’s eyes harden and his whole body stiffs. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks up and looks at both men square in the eye. 

“Who are you?” he starts, slowly. He needs as much information as he can gather before he begins to behave like an insufferable child. 

He hears both laugh lightly. The pale green eyes of the taller captor meet him briefly. 

“Here I was chastising you for being rude but we haven’t even introduced ourselves!” he shakes his head, “Truly, my apologies” 

The other jumps in “Frankly, Inspector, we are not important” he smiles, “Merely here to get a job done” he moves closer to his partner. 

“We just like to have _fun”_ he says finally and with a hop to his step glides a few feet away in anticipation. 

Greg tenses and braces for the whatever is to come next. Green eyes meet his stone cold chocolate orbs and he sucks in a breath. He stares at the scar and soon the stranger is landing a cold slap across Greg’s cheek. 

“We’re nice guys, really” he says and moves to Greg’s other side and he quickly notices the heavy steel ring the man is sporting, tiny little spikes protruding, “We’re here to try and get to know you and all that” he explains and lands a forceful punch on Greg’s other cheek. 

Lestrade yelps as he feels the tiny beads of blood dripping down his cheek. 

“We are very good at our _job_ , Inspector” the voice from farther states. 

“Shall we...continue making our acquaintance?” completes the other. 

Before Greg can shoot them a deadly glare, he receives a brutal blow to the nose once more, force slamming his chair backwards. The sound of his head hitting the concrete resonates through the room feeling an intense pain coming from his nose and a sore sensation from his tongue, which he accidentally bit down on from the force of the impact. Lestrade groans at the crushing pain of hitting his head. 

“Oops” he hears the culprit say, he can practically hear his smile, “That most certainly wasn’t intended Inspector, apologies” he peers down at the squirming Lestrade, eyes screwed shut trying to take his mind off the discomfort, and says “ _that,_ was a nice _crunch_ , though...gonna need some surgery to fix that nose.”

Lestrade sucks in a harsh breath, “Whatever you want” he heaves slightly, “I won’t give it to you.”

He hears them both laugh again.

“You might as well let me go”, Lestrade tries, not expecting it to work but still testing his captors. 

“Oh, Detective Inspector” the taller man _giggles._

“You are quite... _silly_ ” the other jumps in, hand carefully pulling out a previously disclosed handgun. 

“We don’t _want anything”_ he says voice rising in pitch, almost squeaky as if talking to a child.

He grips the gun by the barrel and drives the grip straight to Lestrade’s temple granting him blissful unconsciousness once more. 

\----------

At their flat, Sherlock is sulking. Sherlock always sulks after having a row with John, he doesn’t like it. Nor does he like when the other man is right. Sherlock had not been keen on taking the assignment sent by Mycroft, especially considering the lack of evidence to attempt and trace Lestrade. John had not taken to Sherlock behaving like a petty child. Lestrade was his friend, and if _Mycroft_ had felt a need to even _consider_ enlisting Sherlock on such a private matter, it meant he was serious. 

“Sherlock we _need_ to start identifying a list of possible suspects”, John probed from his chair in the sitting room.

Sherlock did not even twitch in response, only kept staring straight ahead, right leg delicately draped over his left. 

“Sherlock get out of that damned place” John sighed, “you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be, please.” 

Groaning exasperatedly Sherlock threw his head back eying John, “Really, John. Is that what I’m doing now?” 

“What is the matter with you?” John questions, “Why can’t you just start helping without throwing a tantrum?” 

Sherlock scoffs and shakes his head.

“C’mon you _know_ Mycroft, as much as you wish you didn’t, you do” John huffs, “You must know surely of someone, some reason, something…”

There is silence. Sherlock again shuts down ignoring John. John takes in a sharp breath, breaking the quietness of the room.

“Sherlock” He begins but there is no response so he tries again.

“Sherlock…” He says, softer, leaning in front of his chair, tentative hand reaching over to glide over Sherlock’s thigh. 

“You don’t know, do you?.” John’s eyes are soft and his palm is _oh so warm_ , “You have no idea how to do this right now.”

Sherlock merely turns his head avoiding his eyes and frowns.

“He’s my friend too, you know” John murmurs.

Sherlocks scoffs incredulously “Lestrade is not my _friend_ ” he spits the last word distastefully. 

John stands and takes a step to be directly in front of Sherlock who is still sulking in his chair. 

“All of Mycroft’s _disgusting_ sentiment, and now involving me in this as if I could bring back his _lov-”_ before he can finish John’s hands have found their way into his curls massaging just the way Sherlock likes it tugging him closer to John. Sherlock presses his nose to John’s belly and relaxes at the warm sensations, inhaling John’s scent and categorizing it neatly in his memory. 

“It’s ok Sherlock” John starts “Not knowing...that’s alright” he continues his soft stroking “But you care. I know you do Sherlock, you cannot lie to _me._ And even if you don’t give a damn about Mycroft’s _sentiment_ or your bloody own for Lestrade, because believe or not he _is_ your friend-” 

Sherlock scoffs at this but doesn’t pull away from the pleasant embrace. 

“-then do it for mine” John continues, “Because I certainly do care about him Sherlock, and he could be in danger at the hands of someone we don’t even _know_ right this moment.” 

There is another pause as they bask in the silence. John clears his throat slightly. 

“I know I’m no Holmes genius” He begins, “But I am _here_ and I am willing…” he trails off still holding Sherlock close to him. John clears his throat, “always here to help” he finishes, “and here for you.” he says barely above a whisper.

Sherlock, in one fluid, albeit sudden, motion, stands and looks at John directly in the eyes before swinging for his coat at the door. 

John chuckles lightly following suit, “Insufferable git.” 

But Sherlock is already downstairs.

“ _Dull_ John”, He calls from the street “Find some new form of insult for me”

John laughs and mocks him, “Don’t be absurd.”

\---------

When Lestrade awakes again, he finds himself in a different room. He has been unbound from his chair but still sits on it, hands now bound to each other with handcuffs. His head is pounding with probably the worst headache he ever had and his nose feels tender, dried blood on his neck and mouth add to the overall discomfort. 

This room is brighter, there are multiple tables and chairs, looks almost like some sort of lab room. His captors are nowhere in sight for the moment and he lets out a distressed groan. It hurts, _god does it hurt_ but he braces himself for more as he can sense this is only the beginning. 

He recalls the shorter man’s last words, before he passed out, once more. _We don’t want anything._ Gregory starts trying to figure out what they could possibly mean but his head isn’t up for the task and gives up, any effort would be futile. He wishes Mycroft was there, _oh gosh Myc_ Gregory thinks _miss you so much wish I was home_ _, love_. 

The sound of footsteps tears him away from his thoughts. 

“Inspector!” Green eyes greet him cheerfully, “Glad to see you awake again...we haven’t finished getting to know each other” he says far too enthusiastically for Greg’s liking. 

“Yes, truly, Inspector” the other adds behind him, “You must refrain from passing out like that every time we are having fun!...we really do hate having to wait for you all the time…” he says in a disappointed tone.

Gregory notices his mouth has been sealed shut again. This time dark eyes are peering down at him. 

“I know what you’re thinking…” the shorter man chuckles lightly, “But I have a mean punch too” he says and drives his fist to Greg’s jaw. Lestrade grunts at the contact but keeps his gaze steady, cold. 

“Very well” the other man calls out “Let’s not get sidetracked here” 

“Right!” the shorter captor responds with glee “You have yet to meet our other friend! or more like _the boss_ ” 

“Yes, yes” he hears a light chuckle “You both are going to get along just fine…”

Suddenly the room turns pitch black. Greg’s eyes begin trying to adjust to the newfound darkness and then hears some shuffling. Something heavy is placed on top of a nearby table and he hears a couple buttons being pushed around. A few clicks later, something slides shut and light static is being emitted from that direction. 

Greg closes his eyes, trying desperately to determine where the source of the sound is coming from and where his captors had gone. Abruptly, he hears the sound of another voice, a tight but honeyed timbre. The, what seems to be a cassette recording, continues. The voice, kind and welcoming, calls out to Lestrade, but he is desperately distrusting of it’s warmth. 

_“Detective Inspector Lestrade”_ it begins, _“Truly a pleasure to finally meet you”_ it drags out, masked with fake sweetness. 

_“Allow me to introduce myself”_ the cassette static carries on.

_“My name is David.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of Johnlock here? Idk i couldn't not do it bahahhaa. Anyway hope y'all are enjoying so far, it's all starting to shape up a little bit. Next chapter up tomorrow, get to see more on this mysterious David guy.


	5. I Knew Him Before You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention in the tags until today because I didn't know how to do tags lol...butttt this is an angsty fic! with a happy ending of course I could not do a sad ending for this pair. Hope y'all like this update! It's getting spicyyy. Also a brief apology for updating late but school and stuff gets in the way sometimes...anyway enjoy!

The cab ride to Mycroft’s is silent for Sherlock and John. After living and dealing with Sherlock for the amount of years that he had, John Watson had become an artist of analysing Sherlock in one way or another. Today he noted his clenched jaw and slightly stiff shoulders as he stared out the window, he could practically hear the gears in his head working tirelessly. John reaches out a tentative hand and pats Sherlock’s thigh lighty before turning his head and looking to the streets of London. 

They had made the unanimous decision to skip the “crime scene”, if that's what one could call opinionated Sherlock, and go straight to something a little more useful. If this was, in fact, a revenge scheme, then surely Mycroft would have at least _some_ idea of people he had wronged so harshly in the past that they go through the trouble of disrupting his _personal_ life as opposed to his professional life. 

The car halted in front of Mycroft’s surprisingly modest home. Sherlock scoffed as he opened the car door and held it out for John who eyed him with a bit of confusion.

“I bet this is only his hideout house or something of the sort”, Sherlock said scornfully. John just let out a small chuckle in response followed by a barely audionel _Jesus._ As he followed Sherlock to the entrance of the property. 

Sherlock paused, hand halfway in the air ready to knock and pulled it back down. He let a long sigh, looking down at his shoes before he lifted his head high and rang the doorbell instead. They waited patiently for a minute before the noise of the door unlocking from the other side indicated they had a response. 

The door creaked as it slid open slowly. There was Mycroft. 

“Looking... _stunning_ , brother mine” Sherlock said under his breath and John not-so-discreetly pitched his bum. Sherlock bit back a yelp and only shifted unconformably, rising his gaze again to meet Mycroft’s sunken eyes. 

Mycroft did, in fact, look extremely out of character. His usually slicked hair was curling at the base of his neck, his cufflinks were missing and his sleeves had been roughly rolled to his elbows. His posh suit jacket abandoned and his waistcoat was unbuttoned all the way down, pocket watch nowhere in sight. Worst of all, he wasn't wearing _shoes_. 

Mycroft pitched the bridge of his nose and his a rough voice answered “May I _help_ you, Sherlock?”

“Yes actually” the devilish minion he had as a younger brother responded enthusiastically and pushed through the door, John following suit but not before nodding acknowledgingly to Mycroft. 

Once inside Sherlock settled on one of Mycroft’s chairs as Mycroft and John stepped into the sitting room. 

“Now, brother min-” Sherlock began.

“Hold that thought” John cut him off, earning a glare from Sherlock.

John turned to Mycroft, who was eyeing curiously though exhaustion was writing on his unshaven face. John cleared his throat.

“Mycroft” he paused, “didya eat at all?” 

Mycroft frowned and John took that as a no.

“Definitely haven’t sleep well either” he noted.

John could hear the impending wrath of Sherlock. Sure enough, said subject started to get up whining like a child “ _Ugh dull Jo-”_ but before he could move a step forward John pushed him back down to his chair and gave him a look. 

“You sulk there” he said once more, already anticipating the massive sulk Sherlock was going to have, before turning back to Mycroft. 

“Mycroft” he began again, “Greg is my friend. I know you are worried sick for him but surely now he is worried about you too. Think of me as...um...a temporary extension of him” 

Mycroft gave him a disapproving look. 

“Listen,” John tried again, “He wouldn’t want this for you right now. I am going to make sure you are taken care of while he’s gone, Greg would have wanted it. He’d be angry seeing you like this and you know it. Save yourself the energy of complaining and sit down.” 

John quickly moved to the kitchen and began making tea to go with the biscuits he found in the pantry before snatching up a take away menu and placing a quick order. 

“Now…where were we?” 

The Holmes brothers are currently sitting across from each other, staring each other down. 

“Alright” John jumps in again “Do you both have a secret language you are communicating in when you do that?” 

Sherlock tears his eyes away and huffs, “Don’t be silly, John” as he turns his attention back to Mycroft. 

“Mycroft you know what I need” Sherlock begins smoothly.

Mycroft only shakes his head, sighing “Sherlock the list could quite possibly be never-ending” he pauses, “I genuinely would not know where to start.”

“Just…” Sherlock starts again “C’mon Mycroft drop some names, big things, worst-you’ve-ever-done’s”

Exhaling deeply, Mycroft rises to his feet and disappears into his office. When he returns he is carrying a large portfolio, and hands it to Sherlock before taking a seat once more. 

Sherlock’s eyes wide as he opens it, “You’ve never shown me this”, Mycroft merely shrugs. _Never seen the man shrug,_ John thinks to himself. Mycroft is watching Sherlock leaf through the portfolio, names, photographs and brief statements in detail about possible ways Mycroft could be in danger because of them all laid out. Out of nowhere John slides into the room tea and biscuits in one hand and a steaming plate of food in the other, he places both in front of Mycroft and nods his head towards the meal. Begrudgingly he sips some tea and takes a bite, John smiling in satisfaction. 

Abruptly Sherlock raised clutching the portfolio and strides for the door. 

“John!” 

John shared one more look with Mycroft, “ _Finish it_ ”, before rushing to the cab Sherlock had already hailed. 

\-------------

There’s some shuffling coming from the cassette recording before the voice continues. Gregory sits still and pays close attention. 

“ _Well Inspector Lestrade by now surely you must be wondering why you are here”_ the voice continues in its sweet facade _. “I am a very nice man, don’t fear, I could never...hurt you”_ the atmosphere is daunting and cold. 

_“You see, we happen to have a mutual...friend? Hmmm I think I was hardly his friend actually, perhaps something more...intimate”_ Lestrade stiffens but remains still. 

_“Yes, I’m speaking of Mycroft”_ the voice of, supposedly David, chuckles _, “Who else? You hardly know anybody else of significance or importance, do you know? Hmmm, perhaps Sherlock, but really he’s nothing without his big brother.”_

_“Mr. Lestrade”_ David giggles _, “I must make a confession…”_ a pause _._

_“You are devastatingly handsome...oh I'm blushing!... anyway, Mycroft seems to have risen his standards since...me”_ Greg jolts, _since me?_ he replays in his head _Mycroft never told me this._

_“Oh it ended badly Inspector”_ the voice pulls him out of his thoughts _“Probably decided to hide the entirety of this previous entanglement from you”_ Greg shivers at what seemingly feels like the recording had read his mind.

_“But it appears to me you are far better looking than I, Mycroft surely thinks so too, what. a. Catch!”_ David giggles again _“I’ve heard he loves you a lot…”_ he trails off voice dropping. 

_“I loved him too.”_

Greg squirms uncomfortably, somehow this feeling worse than the previous punches and slaps from his captors. 

“ _Like I said, Inspector, I am a nice man” his voice, no longer sweet like honey but rather rough and cold. “I just want to help you...just chat you know?, widen you your....perspective a little”_

_“Mycroft...broke my heart” the voice sounds pained, “He’ll break yours too.”_

Greg closes his eyes and breathes slowly, _no he won’t_ he repeats to himself _you’re lying, hurting me hurts him you just want to see us apart._ Greg squeezes his eyes even more _he’s looking for me,_ he reminds himself desperately. 

_“He’s not going to find you”, the cassette shuts off with a click._

_\----------_

Back at Baker street Sherlock is pacing. John is making him his tea, thinking, after having looked through the portfolio himself he knew this could take a while, Mycroft had, afterall, many enemies. 

John was now back in the sitting room, standing hands on his hips watching the consulting detective work. Sherlock stops suddenly once realizing John is in the room and steps in front of him. Sherlock lifts an arm towards John, almost touching him, but quickly retracts it, sighs in frustration and continues his pacing. 

John eyes him curiously.

“Sherlock” he calls out, “If you want a hug...you just have to ask” he states matter of factly. 

Sherlock looks up and frowns, sighing exasperatedly, and continues walking across the room.

John just continues watching him, _this idiot_ he thinks to himself. 

Sherlock is again facing John before he can notice.

“John” Sherlock says monotonously, “May I have a hug…?”

John smiles and pulls Sherlock close to him, one hand sliding on the nape of his neck threading through his dark curls and other wrapping behind his back, fingers splaying between where his shoulder blades met. 

Sherlock tucks his face into John’s neck breathing him in, hands resting on his waist. 

“Let’s have a cuddle” he feels John’s voice vibrate. 

“Pardon?” Sherlock questions as he’s being pushed down on the headrest of the couch, feet stretching out long touching the other end. John lowers himself on top of him, laying first his legs, then his torso and finally his face on top of Sherlock. The consulting detective shifts a little under the comforting weight and wraps his arms around John once more, sighing into the golden locks of the doctor, feeling his heartbeat.

“Alright” he hears John’s voice murmurs again, “Let it out”

“Timothee Westcott presents some evidence of resentment from the incident in Berlin, but the row with Eugene Evans was recent enough to warran-” John stops listening to Sherlock’s thought process blowing full steam ahead. He starts dozing off as he hears the man pour out his brains. 

\--------

Lestrade’s captors seem to stride back into the room from wherever it was they were hiding. 

“Ah! Inspector” the taller one calls out “Ready for the next?”

He hears more shuffling, the cassette tray opens with a pop and a new tape is inserted. There’s the click of the tray shutting closed and a pause. 

Soon, the familiar static fills the room after the _click. Play._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so maybe some more Johnlock here...I just really need to carve out some more time to write Lestrade's scenes more in detail, want them to be perfect! Next chapter most likely to be only Lestrade I promise, or we shall see.


	6. Break His Heart

The voice from the tape floods the room once more.

“ _Hmmm, Inspector...how can I make you believe me, how can I prove I am a credible source of information?.....Let’s see...Mycroft adores a good rosé, but would never let anyone know, he’d fake liking a red wine much more. He once had to take care of his boss’ cat during his early years after college, I helped him a little with that one. Mycroft has a sweet tooth, obviously, but has a soft spot for chocolates over pastries sometimes. Hmmm shall I continue? I’m afraid we would run out of time, Inspector Lestrade.”_

Gregory swallows hard. He knew these things about Mycroft, he’d confined him during hushed nights in bed and early morning sunrises, or the cat story while way past a few glasses of whisky after dinner sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace. _Only to me_ Greg thought _How would you know?_

David’s voice interrupted him again, “ _You see Inspector, I knew him before you. Far before you actually, it was many years ago, Mycroft had only begun his work after college and I...well I was one of the assistants with whom he worked with.”_

_“Mycroft...as you already know, is quite a character. He didn’t like anyone and he had this passion...fire in his eyes...to climb up the ladder of success. He wanted the position he currently has more than anything else the world had to offer. He often thought I got in the way of things, ignored me, used me...but I knew he loved me. He rarely talked to anyone else…”_

Greg only listened more intently, only shuffling uncomfortably at his now raging bruises. 

_“One day, he got a promotion.”_ the voice wavers a bit _“He was elated, first time I saw him show any emotion of any kind at work...or ever”_

_“After work he pulled me aside and kissed me”_ David continues “ _I couldn’t believe it”_

_“It was bliss. I was totally enamored by long before he even knew I existed.”_

Greg swallows again, palms sweating.

_“Now here you are Inspector...can’t say you took him away from me but...I still believe he has replaced me”_ the voice says darkly _“How. dare. He.”_

_“I want to tell you something...Gregory”_ David snarls his name.

_“I’m not jealous...no..no no I’m not”_ the voice rises in pitch again _“Merely wanna help issall...because frankly Gregory you are quite naive, let me tell you what’s going to happen…”_

_“Mycroft doesn’t love you. He never did, never will. Get that into that tiny. little. head of yours”_ the voice growls “ _Mycroft was meant to be mine now look at me, trying desperately to warn his next”_

_“I shouldn’t be doing this...I told ya, m’nice guy”_

Gregory wants to scream. Something is off he can feel it, why else would this man kidnap him and hire professionals to torture him for 2 days straight? Greg can sense there is a deeper motive, maybe he wants Mycroft back? His mind is racing, burning still with a headache, he can’t seem to pinpoint where the catch is exactly. 

“ _You are right, Inspector...I want nothing to do with you.”_ the smooth voice sends shivers down Greg’s spine “ _just wanna help you...and perhaps, let Mycroft have a taste of...hmm his own medicine?”_

There is silence for a moment, only the cassette static can be heard before the voice emerges again.

_“Mycroft has a beating heart, that’s for sure”_ he says eerily. _“He broke mine...and now..”_

_“I want to see his broken.”_

The cassette clicks off and there is stillness in the air. 

\---------

Gregory did not notice he had drifted off. Only realizes this when he jolts awake and finds himself in the same room laying on his side on the stone cold floor. 

“Nice nap, Inspector?” the raven haired captor smiles. The lights have been turned on and he notices the cassette player propped on the table. The taller man appears and steps closer, gently removing the tape off Lestrade's mouth and producing a bottle of water.

_“_ Drink up” he says, “We still got one more tape.” Lestrade takes the bottle with his cuffed hands and places it to his chapped lips, gulping graciously at the replenishing fluid. Suddenly the lights are off again and the shuffling of the cassette tapes ensues. With a click, the static floods the room once more and David’s voice drowns the silence.

_“Now Inspector,"_ his voice calm and collected “ _What’s next?”_

_“We’ve had our fun, bet you are itching to get back to your beloved.”_ he chuckles _“or not.”_

_“The choice is yours, now”_ David’s voice is sweet “ _hmmm what did Mycroft always say?...ah, yes...all hearts are broken, caring is not an advantage…”_

_“Twas nice meeting you, Gregory”_ He says with finality.

Greg is kneeling in the middle of the room when he hears the door being bust open, an arm curling around his neck, choking him and dragging him out of the room. The other man strikes his head again with the cool steel of his handgun and Greg is out again. 

_“Am afraid I like you too much to go so long without seeing you again, Inspector…”_ the voice booms as they drag Gregory out of the room unconscious _“Think not of this as a goodbye…”_

_“See you soon.”_

The tape clicks off for the last time. 

\-----------

“Now it's time for us to part, Detective Inspector” the taller captor singsongs. 

“How about...a...parting gift?” the darked man inquires. “You’ve really been such a delight” he compliments as he uncuffs Greg’s hands.

But Greg knows what this means already and braces for another round of abuse from his captors. _Why_ he thinks before he feels a flying fist collide with his already bloody cheek, the spikes of the familiar steel ring digging deeper.

“Oops, you already got a bit of something there” the green eyes dance as the tall captor gestures to Lestrade’s cheek. “Gotta work on my aim...lucky for me, I got you for practice.” 

Greg takes a couple more punches and slaps before they push him down on his side and throw some kicks to his stomach. Lestrade is heaving, biting down so hard on his lip he breaks the skin once more, he tries to fight but can’t, his previous injuries taking a toll on his physical state. Once the captors had adorned his torso and back with purplish bruises they stop and pull Greg on a chair. He sits at an open part of the warehouse, he can see the outside light filtering through the window less panes. 

“A pleasure, Mr. Lestrade” the shorter man extends his hand for a shake but Greg just stares at it, scowling. 

“Rude” he murmurs and slaps Greg one last time, “I hope by next time you learn some manners.”

The other man chuckles in the distance and approaches. Greg catches a glimpse of his watch in the captor's hand and his heart starts to beat faster. The green eyes bear down on him and the captor slips the watch over Greg's wrist, strapping the band far too tight, smirking. 

“There you go mate, didn’t think we broke your watch did ya?” They both share a laugh and begin walking towards a black car which suddenly appeared outside the warehouse. They slide in and drive off, disappearing from Greg’s sight. 

He groans, rubbing the back of his head where the blood had matted on his hair, then moves his hand down to clutch at his stomach. _God, I’m so tired_ he thinks to himself before he reaches to his watch band to loosen it. He searches for the crown button which moves the hands and presses down on it. He sighs and lets his head fall back, closing his eyes and getting some much needed rest.

_Come for me,_ he thinks before he drifts. 

\-------------

Anthea comes bursting through the door of Mycroft’s office.

“Sir, we have a signal from Inspector Lestrade’s watc-” she doesn’t finish before Mycroft is rising from his desk rushing to the door with his coat at hand.

“Inform-” he begins but she cuts him off.

“Already sent him the address, sir”, Mycroft nods at this.

“Car is downstairs” she states with finality and Mycroft is already at the lift heading down to the garage. 

\-----------

Sherlock and John are sitting at their chairs quietly. Sherlock leafing obsessively over the portfolio Mycroft had given him.

Suddenly a _bing_ interrupts their silence and Sherlock picks up his phone quickly. He begins getting up while still reading the message. 

“John!” he begins and John is already shrugging on his coat.

They race down the stairs hailing a cab and hoping in. The cab pulls away from Baker Street and Sherlock chucks his phone in front of John who skims the text and nods curtly. 

“Mycroft coming?” John questions.

Sherlock shakes his head and John frowns, sighing, Sherlock hands him a file. John takes it and reads. 

_In the instance that you find Greg or we are able to locate him. Go to him immediately and take him to get medical attention, I will meet you there. I can, at this point, no longer show much care for Gregory until the person inflicting harm is out of the picture. Showing concern for Gregory could potentially put him in danger again._

_I will be at the hospital and will stage a break up with him. When I walk out please hand him this letter immediately._

John spots a small envelope paper clipped to the file, reading _Gregory_ on the front, and continues reading.

_I truly mean immediately, he must know this is only a stunt and he will be emotionally agitated after the things I will be telling him._

_Comfort him, please. I can no longer do that for him. I must dissociate from him for his well being. See that he recovers well and take him back home with you. Send any information relevant to the case to Anthea and see that we find the culprit asap. I do ask you to tell Gregory to write to me. Instructions on how to deliver letters forthcoming. I’m trusting you with my emotions. Take care of them._

_-Mycroft Holmes._

John sighs, a bit overwhelmed. 

“Why-” he begins to ask but Sherlock cuts him off.

“We don’t know who this is, John” Sherlock murmurs “Mycroft is trying to discourage this person from hurting them again by ridding himself of Lestrade....we have to work fast and find this person...don’t think my brother can breath one more day without Greg.”

John’s eyes widened _Greg, he called him Greg._ John simply nods, keeping his eyes to the front. 

A moment later, the car halts to a stop. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy I uploaded early today! Let me know what y'all think, Greg is safe for now but David is still loose, hopefully the letters he will exchange with Mycroft will clear some things up. Lets see how the boys react to Lestrade's evidence! Also I promise Mycroft isn't mean! but that is all I can say without spoiling the rest hahahha. Thanks for reading <3.


	7. I Do Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phewww this is a longer chapter (And Warning! It's pretty angsty) but I think it will bring some relief, I hope. Hope y'all enjoy!! <3

Gregory was only able to shut his eyes for a bit before the reality of the whole situation dawned on him. He groaned and leaned against the chair, David’s words replaying over and over in his head. 

_ Never loved you, never will  _

_ I knew him before you  _

_ He was meant to be mine  _

_ Want his heart broken  _

_ Broke mine  _

Lestrade quickly became distressed. He didn’t want to believe him,  _ no.  _ But his heart ached. Deep inside he felt betrayed, why hadn’t Mycroft told him anything? Greg felt tears burn in his eyes as the seeds of doubt David had sowed began to mess with his head. He loved Mycroft dearly and knew he loved him but  _ why then do David's words hurt so much? Will he really leave me? Whatever happened between them? Surely he cares, why else would this man have hurt me? _

Greg sighed, whipping at his fallen tears and cringing at the sting they left on his bloody cheek. Soon enough he would see Mycroft and sort it all out. His heart was heavy, longing to feel loved again.

Moments later he heard a car pull up and sagged in relief.  _ Help.  _

Sherlock and John quickly hopped out of the cab. 

“Lestrade!” Sherlock called out rushing to the limp Greg, John following him close behind, worry written all over his features.

“Greg!” it was John this time calling his name. He quickly knelt down in front of the thoroughly beat Detective and assessed his injuries. Greg groaned as he prodded at some cuts and bruises. 

“You alright?” John whispered.

“Where’s Mycroft?” Greg inquired as he looked around.

“At the hospital” answered Sherlock.

“C’mon mate, up you go” John said helping Lestrade up “Need to get you there fast, that’s  _ got  _ to be infected” 

Sherlock appeared on Lestrade's other side and the three started making their way back to the cab. Relief washed over their features after reuniting. Though Greg was truly in a bad way. Once in the cab, Greg leaned against the window, staring at the chair as they drove away.

\-----------

Mycroft arrived promptly at the hospital. He strode in with an air of superiority and approached the front desk.

“Good Afternoon” he began smoothly, “I need a room for my friend Gregory Lestrade, who will be arriving in a few minutes. He has faced quite a bit of violence.” he said.

“What is your name sir?”

“Sherlock Holmes” Mycroft delivered with ease. If the plan was going to work, it had to be done right. Mycroft slid a form in the receptionist's direction and her eyes widened, acknowledging the power of the man standing in front of her.

“We will have a room prepared, sir” she said hastily. 

“Thank you kindly” he said as he strode into the private waiting area and sat down gracefully, right leg over his left and hands perched on his umbrella. All calm and graceful with the exception of his twitching brow. Greg would’ve interpreted this slight behavior as  _ nervousness,  _ but he was not here to notice such things and offer comfort, so Mycroft sat alone. 

\--------------

Greg had only been brought through the doors before a group of nurses were surrounding him. One second he was clutching onto John and Sherlock for dear life and then next he was being pushed onto a wheelchair. 

Mycroft had heard the commotion and quickly rose to his feet, trying to get a good glance at Gregory. 

Then he spotted him. There he was slumped in the wheelchair, hair matted with dried blood, a large black eye on the right side of his face and a bloodied cheek on the left. He looked thoroughly spent, his clothing wrinkled and face just _so_ _tired._ He looked dizzy as he cradled his head in his arms and seemed quite skinny though it had only been 2 nights. _Two very long nights_ for Mycroft. The elder Holmes felt his heart stop on his chest at the sight of his pained lover. He so desperately _needed_ to reach out to him, hold him and wipe away the look of exhaustion and paralysing fear written on his features, stroke his silvery locks and kiss at the cuts and bruises. At the thought that he couldn’t do any of those things, anger and pain began to settle within him, _who. dare. do. this._ he growled internally, _I will find them my sweet, they’ll pay for this._

Amongst the chaos, Greg glanced up, eyes searching for something,  _ someone.  _ And their eyes met. For a brief moment Mycroft just stood their eyes clouded with worry. Greg tried to reach out, weakly calling out to him.

“Myc-” but he was swiftly wheeled away into an examination room. Mycroft just stood frozen from his place in the waiting room. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his muddled thoughts. 

“Mycroft” John’s voice resonated softly, “Come sit down” he tugged gently at Mycroft’s arm and he sat down, not tearing his eyes away from the room Gregory had disappeared into. 

Eventually he turned and saw John sitting next to him, Sherlock in the seat next to the doctor.  _ Attached at the hip  _ Mycroft thought before he found his voice.

“Doctor Watson…” He began.

“He’s pretty beat up Mycroft” John responded gently, not trying to started the agitated man, “He’s going to be alright of course...but he’s got a pretty bad concussion-” 

“The bruise on his temple.” Mycroft stated.

“Yes, looks like he was hit there repeatedly.” John continued, “Lots of bruising on his torso, broken rib, got a gash on his side that I’m pretty sure he did not notice, pretty infected…” John informs without Mycroft having to ask. 

He just nods curtly and his face hardens, sighing. Trying desperately to keep his emotions in check. It would only make everything harder on him. He sat back, closing his eyes. 

It was just a waiting game now.

\-----------

About an hour later, the doctor caring for Gregory emerges from the room and surveys the waiting area.

“One guest at a time allowed for the moment” he says and adds, “Condition is stable, had a really bad couple of days but should be expected to recover soon.” 

Mycroft rises slowly, pulling down on his waistcoat and straightening up, he clears his throat. The doctor gestures towards the door. 

“He’s awake” he states once more before he is walking away behind the reception desk. 

Mycroft turns back to look at John and Sherlock. John looks worried while Sherlock is starring in front of him seemingly in deep thought. Mycroft turns back towards Gregory’s door, steps forward and turns the knob slowly. 

\--------

He pushes the door open and he spots Greg laying on his bed, hooked up to a couple machines and receiving some fluids through a drip. 

Greg looks up and gives him a crooked smile. 

“Mycroft…” he says softly, voice raw and  _ tired.  _ “God, I missed you so much.” 

Mycroft just stands there silently looking at Gregory through his lightly moistened lashes. 

“Myc…” Greg starts, “Cat got your tongue?...look I know I look pretty rough right now but surely I’m not that much of an eyesore right?” he chuckles light heartedly and heaves heavily. 

Mycroft heart drops to his stomach,  _ oh god, course not beautiful...you’d never be an eyesore to me.  _ He clears his throat,  _ I can’t do this,  _ he thinks to himself  _ how can I treat him this way.  _ But opens his mouth and begins delivering the heart wrenching performance he’d planned out. 

“Gregory I certainly do apologize for all the trouble you've gone through” he continues, “You will be well taken care of here, you have my word.”

Greg shoots him a look of confusion, thinking to himself  _ love, why did you start sounding like a business transaction again? Don’t you trust me?  _

“I endured for you…” Greg trails off quietly.

Mycroft’s heart leaps but he pushes down the warmth of Gregory’s words. 

“I am afraid...I’m here to…” Mycroft stumbles over his words slightly but perseveres nevertheless, “You and I...this relationship has proved difficult no doubt” he settles on his wording, not meeting Greg’s eyes. 

“What is going on Mycroft?” Gregory’s voice is a bit louder now. 

“I’d like to formally end our romantic relationship...here” He says, voice cool as ice. 

“What?” Lestrade responds exasperatedly, “Are you serious Mycroft, right now?!...I....I can’t believe this” Greg heaved heavily, face contorting in pain and anger all at the same time.

“How can you do this?...Couldn’t have picked better timing huh?” he says bitterly. “Can’t believe you’re giving up on us just like that” his eyes begin to fill with tears and it takes every ounce of Mycroft’s being to refrain from calling quits to the ridiculousness of the situation and rush to his beloved in that instance. 

“Gregory,” he begins, “I have put you in immediate danger and you’ve gotten badly injured...it’s just not worth it” he delivers steadily.

“ _ Not worth it?”  _ Greg sneered incredulously and Mycroft visibly tensed.

Mycroft’s look hardened again and he carried on, cruel and heartless. “Yes, not worth the time, effort, energy. Truly a waste this has been” Mycroft said in an indifferent tone.

“He was right…” Gregory murmured.

“Pardon?” 

“David.” Gregory says scowling annoyingly.

“I’m not sure who you are talking about.” Mycroft was visibly confused for a moment.

“Oh for god’s  _ sake  _ Mycroft” Gregory was clearly in pain and irritated, tears beginning to form in his eyes again. 

“How...how can you say it's not worth it?” he questioned, voice tight with emotion, “How can you say  _ I’m  _ not worth it?” 

“This has become far more complicated than it needed to be...I simply cannot go on with this  _ burden  _ of a relationship.” Mycroft continues, “It’s truly my fault for being so foolish as to think that something like this would be worth my damned time.” 

“I’m your burden?” Gregory’s dark chocolate eyes are staring straight into his soul.

“Of course.” Mycroft murmurs, “This was a mistake.”

“This was a  _ mistake?”  _ Greg’s eyes are on fire and he can feel his blood boiling as he shouts. 

Mycroft too raises his voice and begins again “Yes Gregory for god’s sake what part don’t you understand.  _ This. Was. A. Mistake.  _ And if I had all the power in this bloody world to turn back time and return to the ways things were before I met  _ you _ , you can sure as hell believe that I would, because from now on you mean  _ nothing to me _ . To think I made all those promises of “there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do” ugh...repulsive. I bloody well regret every single second spent with you, every touch and every kiss. I wish it never had happened. I wish I could take it  _ back!”  _ Mycroft's snaps and he notices the tears flowing freely down Greg's busted face, realizing the weight of his words. 

As he is turning he hears Greg say, “We promised…” his voice tiny and barely above a whisper, thick with emotion, “We’d walk to the end of the world together…”

Mycroft’s heart lurched but he merely turned his head over his shoulder as he reached for the door. 

“You are mistaken,” He murmurs. 

“ _You_ said that.” He turns the knob “I never made such promise.” 

With that Mycroft exits the room hearing Gregory let out a wrecked sob as he chokes back on his own. 

\-------------

John is up on his feet as soon as he sees a disturbed Mycroft exit Greg’s room. Mycroft strides past him and John can’t help but feel bad for the pair, having to go through so much because of one person.  _ We’ll get to the bottom of this  _ John thinks, he cares deeply for his friends and this was taking a toll on both Greg and Mycroft.

John steps into the room to find a weeping Lestrade cradling his face in his hands as he sniffs and struggles to get a hold of his breath. John immediately rushed to him, Sherlock had apparently also followed him into the room despite the “one person at a time” policy. 

“Hey...hey, it’s alright mate” John hovers over the bed and Lestrade is tugging at his shoulder, leaning in and crying violently. 

“He...he...h-” Greg tries but promptly has a coughing fit due to the effort, “He doesn’t love me anymore...David was right….he said...he said...he would break my heart.” 

Sherlock perks up “What?” but both Lestrade and John ignore him.

“Shhh, mate. It’s alright” John tries to comfort his distraught friend, “I...here...I need you to read this right now.” 

Lestrade pulls back from the embrace and stares through wet lashes at the letter John is clutching in his hand. “Now John?”

John purses his lips and nods curtly, “Yes, now”

Greg looks at him strangely and takes in the letter into his hand. He tears into it, unfolds it and immediately recognizes the handwriting. 

_ Dearest Gregory, _

_ If you are reading this, I thank you deeply. I cannot believe what I have just done. You must know that it took every ounce of my being to even utter those horrid words to your face. I didn’t mean any of it, I promise you Gregory, I beg you to believe me. I love you. Please don’t ever think for a second that you are not important enough to me, I would move mountains for you, my love, just say the word and I’ll find a way to fulfill every wish and demand you could possibly dream of. I am ashamed that this is what I have resorted to but I am deeply concerned about your well being, my beautiful. I can assure you, even though I’ve written this letter in advance, the look in your eyes will surely have devastated me inside. _

_ At this point we know not who this horrid person is and I cannot wait, and shall not rest, until I have my hands on them. Please tell Sherlock and John everything, this case is deeply personal and will be at the top of the priority list for them as well as Anthea. As much as it pains me, I must refrain from direct involvement, for your sake my love. I’m sorry I have to distance myself from you but it is a way we can try to discourage this person from harming you again, it’s not guaranteed but I very much will try my hardest to ensure that does not happen again. I beg you to understand. My sentiments for you, though, have not changed. I am still ardently and passionately in love with you, Gregory and I will hurt whoever gets in the way of that, you have my word. _

_ I know you will be angry for the pain I have subjected you to, my darling, I am deeply sorry. I beg you to write to me to confirm you read this letter. I will get to the bottom of this, I promise and at the end, no one shall mess with us again. I will await our reunion with bated breath. I hope to visit you in my dreams until then, my sweetness.  _

_ Yours truly and always,  _

_ Mycroft Holmes  _

_ P.S. My darling, I’d rather watch the world burn than not have you by my side. We’ll walk to the end together, or not at all.  _

Gregory read the letter and sagged on on his bed. 

“Fucking bastard” he snarled but smiled,  _ he does love me, he did come. _

John eyes him and smiles in return before he spots a round of tears from Greg, this time though, he smiles through them. 

“How do I still love this asshole?” he wonders outloud and John chuckles. 

“Hey now,” he begins, “at least yours told you” he murmurs, he can practically feel Sherlock scowling in protest.

Greg gives him a warm smile and shakes his head at Sherlock. 

Sherlock glides closer to the bed “Lestra-” begins but John places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let’s give him some time to rest now, Sherlock” John says gently, “The man just went through a rollercoaster of emotions, he’s not fully up to giving us his account yet...lets give him a couple hours eh?” Sherlock is reluctant but nods his head. 

Lestrade smiles, “Thanks” and he closes his eyes to get some much needed rest, still clutching the letter. 

John stands and walks over to Sherlock, leaning his head on the shoulders of the tall lean figure and places a hand on his back, sighing lightly. Sherlock is tense for a moment before he lets his head fall on John’s golden locks and closes his eyes, breathing his scent and curling an arm around his waist holding the smaller man closer. The two stand close as they watch over Lestrade, thankful they are safe and  _ together.  _

\----------

In his car, Mycroft is anxious. Soon he’ll hear back with news on Gregory, but their last interaction left a rather bitter taste in his mouth. His heart ached and rested heavy in his chest, anger beginning to boil as he thought to himself, 

_ I will find you.  _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow what a ride. Let me know what y'all think! Next chapter up tomorrow :), how will be boys react to the evidence?


	8. Pardon, Who?

When Greg awakens next, the darkness outside the window indicates the day has shifted into night. He notices John dozing off in a chair nearby and Sherlock staring out the window in deep thought. Greg shifts a little in his bed, careful not to agitate himself and cause more pain, and clears his throat. 

John jerks slightly and sits up in the chair, rubbing his eyes of sleep and smiles at Greg. He approaches and assesses Greg’s state quickly before speaking.

“How ya feeling, mate?”

“Feeling better,” Greg says softly, “Pretty sore still everywhere, my side, by stomach,  _ ugh _ my face...my nose,” he says touching it. 

“Hey, Hey...don’t poke at it Greg, it’s still healing” John warns and Greg nods acknowledgingly. 

Sherlock pulls away from the window and grabs a medium sized teddy bear from a nearby night stand. 

“Mycroft, with his  _ disgusting sentiment, _ told me to buy you this” Sherlock says annoyingly and shoves the plush bear in front of Greg’s face, awkwardly stiff. 

John shoots him a look and Sherlock sighs, placing the bear gently onto Lestrade’s bed.

“ _ Disgusting sentiment”  _ John repeats, “Sherlock does this mean you don’t have sentiment for  _ me?” _ John inquires, quirking his eyebrow. 

Greg throws his head and lets out a roaring laugh at Sherlock’s horrified expression, heaving heavily before picking up the bear and cuddling it close to his chest affectionately. 

“I can make it smell of Mycroft if you’d like.” Sherlock offers. 

Greg nods his head, “If you can, go for it” 

Sherlock nods, takes the bear and tucks it away to take to Mycroft’s later. 

\------------

“Alright Lestrade, enough of this pathetic waste of time” Sherlock states from his stance near the foot of the bed. 

Greg sighs, he really didn’t want to recall the experience from the last couple of days, but he knows it will be necessary. 

“John” Greg calls out to his friend, who perks up from his chair, “Could you get a pen and some paper? I really wouldn't want to say and rewrite everything twice...for Myc” he finishes. 

John nods quickly and searches around for the materials. 

“I’ll write for you Greg, your hand is still on the drip” John points out and Greg nods his head before beginning from the start of the events. 

\-----------

Sherlock is quick to interrupt when Greg gets to the bit about the tapes.

“You are saying you never saw his face?” he inquires.

“No…” Greg trails off, “I could probably recognize his voice if I hear it again.”

“What was his name?”

“David.” Greg says, pursing his lips. 

“And he said what now?” Sherlock’s eyes are deep in thought as Greg explains all the details, of the small references to the kiss to the fact that Mycroft broke his heart. Before long Sherlock is interrupting him. 

“He said Mycroft loved hi-” Greg was saying.

“That’s not true” Sherlock cuts in. 

“What?” Greg questioned, puzzled with a look on his face.

“That's. Not. True.” Sherlock repeats. 

“How would you know?”

Sherlock scoffs and moves closer to Gregory “Mycroft doesn’t simple  _ love  _ another soul, Lestrade” 

Gregory frowns but says nothing. Sherlock begins pacing. 

“Especially when he was so young and out of college, his job was the most important thing in the universe at that moment, his mind was occupied with little else...nevermind getting involved with an  _ assistant _ .” Sherlock continued, “And let me also remind you, Lestrade, I was there. Well...not constantly, but I knew Mycroft, there….there just isn’t a way this is true...at all”

Greg looked at him expectantly, his heart almost leaping out of his chest... _ so mycroft didn’t hide this from him...everything was a lie.  _

“You’ve been manipulated” Sherlock says matter of factly, “Obviously...but why...why...” Sherlock started pacing again, then abruptly looking up at Lestrade again.

“David said all these things, Mycroft broke up with you, said horrible things to your face...almost  _ proving  _ what David said to be  _ true... _ and yet you...you  _ still love him _ ” Sherlock pondered out loud, one hand pulling at his dark curls. 

Greg shrugged in response “The heart wants what it wants I gues-”

“Oh Shut up!” Sherlock says exasperated, “Ridiculous.” He continues his pacing a bit more and halts. 

“I got it.” John and Greg perk up, eyes trained on Sherlock. “Mycroft doesn’t know who this is because he quite possibly didn’t even know his name at the time, it's true they worked together and it's true, from what David admitted, that he had a  _ crush _ on Mycroft...though Mycroft could’ve been standing in front of a dead  _ corpse _ and not noticed. He knows about the cat because he was the receptionist for Mycroft’s  _ boss,  _ and about his other preferences because...hmm...he was “totally enamoured” by Mycroft...ah yes, of course...he stalked him, followed him everywhere he could and committed those things to memory. He  _ loved  _ Mycroft...Mycroft could never and would never return such feelings...he was hurt, wanted him...Mycroft hasn’t had a lover, ever...until... _ you.”  _ Sherlock points at Lestrade, who’s eyes have been blown wide open. 

“Jealousy itself isn’t enough of a factor to have persuaded him to get back at Mycroft, to _lie_ …it was heartbreak surely, anger... _ humiliation _ ” Sherlock ponders and both Greg and John looked confused.

“You said he...he said Mycroft got promoted?” 

Greg nods his head, “Yes”

“And he didn’t mention anything after that?”

“No” 

“Something happened there, knowing Mycroft he probably doesn’t remember such an insignificant detail...maybe he fired him or something” Sherlock says hastily. 

“We need to get to Mycroft's,” Sherlock said grabbing his coat.

“Wait!” Greg called out, “I need...I need to write back to him”

Sherlock scoffed, “We can just tell him your fine and he’s forgiven” said exasperatedly. 

“No” Greg said, “You will not _just_.”

“Fine” Sherlock groaned, “Make it quick” he almost hissed.

John handed Lestrade more paper and then the pen he had been using to write all the evidence down. After he was done writing, he neatly folded both Greg’s letter and the evidence into a small envelope and placed it safely in the pocket of his coat. Sherlock snatched the plush bear and held the door open as they both headed out, waving one last time at Greg promising to be back the next day at the latest.

Greg smiled and closed his eyes.

\---------------

It’s pouring outside when John and Sherlock make it to another one of Mycroft’s large estates. Sherlock is promptly banging at the door, protecting the teddy bear from the water. Mycroft tore the door open minutes later, still dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier though it was half past midnight. He looked both alert but exhausted at the same time. 

“I need some of your cologne,” Sherlock said as he barged through the door, John following suit. Mycroft just stood there and closed the door after them.

“Be my guest...brother mine”

Sherlock sat at one of the chairs in the sitting room and Mycroft took the one opposite to him, pouring himself some scotch before nodding at John. He slid his hand into his coat pocket and pulled the envelope, handing it to Mycroft swiftly. He tore into it impatiently and unfolded the contents. He picked up the letter with the handwriting he could recognize any day.

_ Mycroft,  _

_ You bastard, son of a bitch, bloody monster. I am so angry with you. You really had me going there, I know you meant well but bloody hell. You have no idea how many times my heart stopped every time you opened your mouth, I was sick to my stomach, you daft prick, don’t mess with my heart Mycroft. _

_ I just needed to get that off my chest. I love you. I was so scared for a while, those things David said to me were messing with my head. Your letter was lovely and gosh I miss you so much, love. I need you here with me, all this pain would be easier to manage if you were by my side… _

_ I’ve given Sherlock and John everything I have, Sherlock seems to have reached a conclusion, it's just a matter of finding him now my love, promise you will. It hurt so damned much. I know you are a man of your word, I know you won’t let me down. I love you so much my heart could burst, baby. And I can call you that because you are not here to complain...HA! _

_ Can’t wait to be in your arms again Myc. Don’t ever do this to me again or I swear my heart won’t be able to take it. Have sweets dreams of me, love. _

_ Yours forever, _

_ Gregory Lestrade  _

_ P.S. Whenever you catch him, I want to be there. I want to see his face.  _

Mycroft smiles and cradles the letter tenderly. He reads through the pages in John’s handwriting, face contorting in anger and disbelief at what he was reading in front of him. He growls internally,  _ who dare lie, who dare fill my Gregory with such malicious things.  _ He lifts his head up, eyes filled with determination and gestures towards Sherlock.

“Where were we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked this chapter! Next one will be up tomorrow though it will be a little short, the end is nearing though! Will they catch David???


	9. Master of Deceit

“Sherlock”, Mycroft’s voice resonates through the sitting room, he radiates frustration, “This  _ person  _ is a highly skilled master of deceit. I have no clue who it may have been. Their lying was purposeful...they are trying to confuse me.” 

“Obviously” Sherlock responds, “They know lying changes the game...though one thing is certain, they did have a  _ massive  _ crush on you Mycroft.” 

Mycroft’s sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can get Anthea to search for records of all previous employees with that position and that time frame, she’ll contact you once she locates  _ David”  _ Mycroft snarls. 

“Did you fire anyone immediately after that promotion?” Sherlock asks, “Could be another possible motive to seek out revenge.”

Mycroft scowls, “That promotion certainly did not grant such powers, though when I got promoted into the new position I was allowed to choose an assistant of my liking. I am unaware if that meant someone else getting sacked.” 

Sherlock exhales exasperatedly, “Who cares at that point, you picked someone else  _ over him _ , he was probably angry, felt betrayed and worst of all if he did get fired,  _ humiliated... _ we’ve got our motive all right here, with everything that Greg said too.”

“I sure hope his name isn’t a lie either”, John chimes in.

“Doubt it” Sherlock responds, “Only a 27% chance of that occurring. He wants, despite it all, to tugg a little at Mycroft’s heart strings...add  _ sentiment _ .” 

They all nod acknowledgingly, now they just had to find him.

\---------------

Sherlock emerges from Mycroft’s bedroom with the teddy bear now smelling of expensive and posh cologne. 

“Now for another order of business, brother mine” Sherlock says with a devilish smirk on his face. He thrusts the teddy bear into Mycroft’s arms and wiggles it. 

“Hug the bear”

“Pardon?”Mycroft asks 

“The bear for Lestrade, hug it” Sherlock tried again.

“Why ever would I do that Sherlock, stop being a child, please”

“Because I will be taking it to Lestrade tomorrow and he accepted for it to smell of you so go on and hug it” 

Mycroft reluctantly took the bear into his arms and squeezed it. From the corner of the sitting room, John almost fell out of his chair trying to scramble for his phone, a moment like this could not pass by without photo evidence. 

“Now kiss it”

“Oh for god’s  _ sake,  _ Sherlock, I’m not  _ kissing  _ a children’s toy” 

“Do it”

“No”

“Now, Mycroft”

“No”

“Capable of signing war ending treaties but can’t kiss a plush bear” Sherlock mocked.

Mycroft pulled the bear up to his lips, about to press a soft peck between the ears. John ran towards the scene trying to pull the camera app on his phone. Just as he was about to snap the most perfect picture in existence, his phone started powering off. Dead.

“NOO!”, He shrieked in horror as Mycroft kissed the bear. 

“Damn it John!”, Sherlock shouted, “The ONE thing you’re good at!” 

“I...I..”, John stuttered in disbelief staring at his phone. 

Sherlock pulled on his coat, snached the bear from Mycroft and pulled John towards the door. Both slipped through the main entrance and disappeared into the night.

\----------- 

The next day, Sherlock and John arrive promptly at the start of the visitor’s hours. 

“Lestrade”, Sherlock greets a smiling Greg who is eating some mushy hospital food, Sherlock hands him the bear, “Hugged and kissed by yours truly.” 

Greg snorts and takes the bear into his arms, taking in the familiar scent.

“Thanks”, he says practically giddy. 

“So...we talked to Mycroft, as my theory confirmed he has no idea who this is, but does say he got to pick an assistant when he was promoted which either means, 1. David is upset Mycroft didn’t pick him, 2. Mycroft didn’t pick him and David got fired or 3. David wasn’t picked and he thought Mycroft fired  _ him… _ ” 

Greg nods taking in the information.

“For now we wait until Anthea finds and tracks David down via the employee records.”

“As for you”, John jumps in, “We are taking you home today”

Greg perks up, “Really?” 

“Yep, you can continue to rest up at home.” John says, picking up some of Lestrade’s things and packing them in a bag.

After the doctor gave Greg the all clear, the three make their way down to the lobby and Sherlock hails a cab.

“221b Baker Street” 

\-----------

Later that evening, after dinner has been eaten and the three are drinking tea in the sitting room, Lestrade begins to shrug on his coat and takes John’s keys.

John immediately pipes up, “Where you goin?” 

Greg gives him a smile, “Just getting some air, having a walk” 

John shoots him a worried look but Lestrade comforts him, “I’ll be alright ok?, I won’t be long.” John nods and Lestrade slips through the door and into the busy night. 

\-----------

Gregory stepped into a cool, crisp London night. The sky was a dark navy blue, no rain clouds in sight for a change. He began following the familiar path down a small alley near Mycroft and his’ favorite  _ bistro _ ...not  _ cafe _ Mycroft had said the first time they went there together  _ how pedestrian.  _ Gregory chuckled at the thought and continued his route. He was making his way to a special place, as cliche as it sounded and  _ dull  _ as Sherlock would say, it was  _ their place  _ and Gregory knew there was no safer place, other than Mycroft’s embrace, in the world. He smiled at the memory of the first time Mycroft had pulled his hand, lightly jogging down a dirt path lined with flowers of all colors of the rainbow, ducking through bushes and finally showing him the most beautiful park, cocooned in the depths of a virgin forest. The moonlight bounced off the crisp, clear water of the pond, a crystal mirror reflecting the trees and stars all at once, the grass was a fresh green, soft to the touch, it felt magical. 

He missed it. Gregory let his mind wander back to the memory. 

\---------------

_ “Mycroft…” Gregory began, “Where are we going love, this doesn’t feel safe”  _

_ “Just follow Gregory, I promise we’ll be alright, why ever would I hurt you?” Mycroft replied tugging Gregory past the bushes and into the secluded garden of Eden hidden within the chaos of London’s busy streets.  _

_ Gregory could only glance around, mouth agape. The stars were visible from here, the moon glowing in its glory the serenity of the place brought Greg peace of mind. He looked at Mycroft, who was already staring at him lovingly as the moonlight hit Greg’s silvery locks making him look ethereal or even an angel in heaven.  _

_ Mycroft pulled Greg in for a slow, tender kiss, cradling his face in his hands gently as if too precious to harm. He pulled back and held Greg close. _

_ “This is my favorite place” Mycroft said barely above a whisper “I come here a lot...when I’m... stressed” he continued sharing with Gregory his intimate secrets.  _

_ “It’s the only place I can truly run away from it all...no work, no chaos, just...the purity of the world” Mycroft gestured to their surroundings. Gently he pulled Gregory onto a plush velvet blanket he had brought with him. “No one will ever find us here” he murmured. _

_ They watched the stars together while sipping on wine and snacking on cheese, sharing each other's warmth and company. That night they fell in love with each other, their bodies found themselves tangled and intertwined, moving as one. Gregory gave himself to Mycroft, and Mycroft willingly and lovingly took such good care of him. They shared the most intimate moment as the moonlight guarded them from the malice of the outside world.  _

_ Under the stars, Mycroft pulled a soft silk sheet over their bodies and held Greg close, breathing him in as his heavy eyelids threatened to close. Greg nuzzled into his neck, closer.  _

_ “I love you”  _

_ \-------------- _

Now Greg sat near the pond, jeans rolled up as he dipped his feet into the crystal water. He sighed, thinking about Mycroft, wondering if he had visited this place since their separation. Suddenly he heard some movement behind a near-by tree and he perked up, trying to get a better view. It was only a quick glimpse, but he would recognize those gingery locks and piercing eyes from a mile away.

“Mycroft…” he called out softly, “I know you’re there....I thought you said…”

“I know” Mycroft says defeated, “I know I said...but I just…”, he slides his back down the tree and leans against it, “Saw where you were and I just...needed to see you Gregory.”

“C’mere” Greg called out.

“I…” Mycroft hesitated, 

“Mycroft...you’ve said it yourself” Greg said gently “It’s safe here” 

Gregory was now standing, facing the direction Mycroft’s voice was coming from. The ginger got up and began walking towards the man he loved so much. Once he was directly in front of him, he looked straight into the chocolate orbs which could just  _ melt  _ him into a puddle anyday. They stood there for a second before Mycroft could no longer hold himself back. He slid his arms around Gregory’s waist and pulled him into a sweet kiss, a passionate kiss, one which expressed all unspoken emotions. 

“I’ve missed you so much, love”, Gregory whispered as they pulled away.

“Not as much as I”, Mycroft retorted, stroking Greg’s silvering strands of hair off his face, “I...feel horrible Gregory please, please forgive me...you went through all of that because of love and I just…I can’t imagine how you were feeling.”

“It wasn’t the most  _ loved _ I’ve felt” Gregory responded looking into Mycroft’s worried eyes, “Issalright Myc...I know you wouldn't do it if you truly didn’t need to...I know you didn’t mean those things…”

“Of course not.” Mycroft whispered stroking Greg’s cheek with his thumb, “Never, I would never mean those things, darling.” 

“Promise?”

“Certainly, I promise” 

Gregory tugged him down to the spot where he had been sitting, dipping his feet back into the warm water. Mycroft followed him, rolling up his trousers and unbuttoning his waistcoat, he laid back onto both his hands and stared into the calm water. Greg moved closer, laying his head on Mycroft’s chest and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Do you remember the first time you brought me here?” Greg pondered softly, “It’s one of my favorite memories.”

Mycroft nods softly, “How could I forget?” he responds gently, looking at the moonlight reflecting into Greg’s gorgeous eyes. 

Mycroft wraps an arm around Greg’s waist and pulls him closer, nuzzling into his hair, pressing soft kisses. 

“I don’t want to be apart from you anymore” Greg’s voice is small, barely audible. 

“Soon you won’t have to be, my love” 

They sit in silence listening to the soft sounds of nature for a while, enjoying each other’s company. 

Greg speaks up after a moment, “Mycroft?” 

“Hmmm”, Mycroft hums as he rubs circles on Greg’s back.

“Am I really the only one you’ve... _ loved _ ?”

Mycrofts nods his head, slight smile on his lips, “Yes”

After a moment Mycroft speaks up again, voice hushed and soft, as if revealing a secret.

“We weren’t meant to be alone you know?” 

Greg looks up to meet his gaze, eyes reflecting confusion and Mycroft continues.

“Sherlock and I...it’s not like we were incapable of love…” Mycroft pauses and Greg listens intently, “We didn’t really know how...but we, we can...we didn’t have the most  _ functional  _ childhood. But...Mummy and Father, they had each other, they were companions in life.”

“But they’re...they’re different...they match each other's smarts, Mycroft with me you’re just...settling for less…”

Mycroft frowns. “You are not giving yourself enough credit Gregory”

“It’s true Myc...I’m no genius” 

“It’s not about that Gregory...my family wasn’t  _ perfect _ ”, Mycroft continues “Two geniuses or not”

Greg keeps looking into his eyes.

“You are my  _ one, _ Gregory”, Mycroft whispers lovingly.

“Mycroft Holmes, are you telling me you believe in soulmates?” Greg questions, smiling wide.

“Nonsense Gregory” Mycroft says but still smiles, “You know better than that.”

Greg chuckles and Mycroft finds his voice again.

“I’m not a genius” Mycroft’s eyes are trained on the pond, “I’m deeply flawed, as is Sherlock, I don’t need someone like me, I don’t  _ want  _ someone like me, Gregory....You...You are everything I’m not...infinitely better at many things I’m not...I don’t need some  _ genius  _ to keep our intelligence gene in the family or whatever nonsense, love. I need  _ you _ . I’ve needed you all along, you are the missing puzzle piece in my heart. You complete me in ways I could never think of and I am so  _ relieved  _ you are in my life. I’m so happy we found each other. My parent’s...they don’t have what we do, I’m so tired of all this bloody nonsense, you taught me how to be happy and now I am  _ addicted.” _

There is a pause before Mycroft continues.

“Don’t you ever say you aren’t good enough for me, if anything, darling,  _ I’m not enough for you.”  _

Gregory is now looking up at Mycroft, eyes gleaming as tears are gently falling down his cheeks. 

“Myc…” 

“I’m sorry sweetness, have I said something wrong?”

“No no, not wrong” Greg sniffs, “You said all the right things, gorgeous” 

And in that instance they feel their love radiating off each other without having to say it. Greg lays his head back on Mycroft’s chest, eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. 

“Gregory, it won’t do you any good sleeping in this position, you’re already in pain as it is” Mycroft’s voice pulls him to consciousness. 

“Doncare” Greg’s voice is muffled as he snuggles closer. 

“Well I do” Mycroft pulls his phone out of his pocket, “I’m calling you a cab” 

“No Myc!” Greg pulls back quickly “Please...I don’t want to go” 

“You must Gregory it’s nearly 3 in the morning and John’s messaged me 20 times”, Mycroft is promptly dialing a number. 

“If he asks how I know where you are just tell him I tracked you...which is not entirely a lie but don’t tell him you saw me...they’ll never live it down.” Mycroft says as he gets up and offers Gregory his hand. 

Greg sighs and takes his lover’s hand, pulling himself off the soft grass. 

“What about you?” Greg says, pulling Mycroft close for one last embrace.

“I’ll stay a little longer” 

Greg almost frowns but restrains himself, giving Mycroft one last kiss, before pulling away and walking back to the reality of the world. He turns back briefly, looking at Mycroft’s standing figure facing the pond and calls out

“I love you” 

Mycroft turns back slightly and smiles softly, “I know...I love you, Gregory” 

And with that Gregory pushes past the bushes and heads back home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a couple chapters left in this fic! This chapter isn't really a lot of content of David, but the climax is forthcoming! Please look forward to it <3 Thank you all for reading!


	10. We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter ahead, but tis almost basically the end. Just one more after this :) Let me know what y'all think!

A couple days after his surprise encounter with Mycroft, Greg was back at work, on a case. John, Sherlock and Mycroft all had been equally concerned about letting Lestrade go back, but knowing Sherlock and John practically worked with him eased their worries. Mycroft had Anthea up the surveillance on Lestrade in case _David_ tried anything.

In the meantime, Anthea had been hard at work searching through the files of the employee records, finding a couple of Davids in the documentation. The name was, unfortunately, far too common. Mycroft had been rummaging through the files in detail, looking for any clue that could hint towards a particular David when he got a message from Sherlock.

_Lestrade’s gone._

\-------------

Gregory had gotten up early for his first day back at work. He was itching to get back to some sort of normal after the incident, being at Sherlock and John’s felt unfamiliar and not seeing Mycroft certainly made him feel anxious and uneasy. It was as if a part of his life had gone missing and it was hard to learn to live without it. 

When Greg got to his office, he immediately got call that there had a been a murder about 20 minutes away from the office. There was little information still, but the body had been removed from the scene of the crime. It had occurred in a tiny flat, no known motive nor a suspect but the neighbor had heard the commotion from his own apartment. Lestrade sighed, feeling the relieved he had some sort of familiarity to grip onto. He quickly messaged Sherlock the address and told him to meet there. 

Greg pulled his keys and coat and began heading to his car. As he approached the lot where it was parked, he noticed it. He had a flat tire. Gregory groaned at his bad luck, probably from it sitting there without use. 

“Just my luck” he murmured to himself when suddenly Anderson approached.

“Oh bugger that” Anderson exclaimed from behind him. 

“Yeah…” sighed Gregory in response, only mildly paying attention.

“Well” Anderson piped up again, “You can ride to the scene with me, if you'd like”, he offered.

Greg finally turned to acknowledge his presence and nodded slowly, “Alright” he said, “Lead the way.”

With that Anderson was walking to the other side of the car park and stopped in front of his car, unlocking the doors and gesturing for Greg to get inside.

“Nice car!” he said with surprise, “Is it new? Didn’t know you were into this sort of flashy thing.”

“Oh well…” Anderson trailed off, “Yes it's new, decided to spoil myself a bit there.”

Anderson started the car and pulled out of the car park, it was certainly a smooth ride Greg through to himself as they sped through the busy London streets. Anderson’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts again.

“Mind if we stop for petrol?” Anderson asked, “Didn’t realize I was running low and it's quite a longer ride” 

Greg nodded in his direction, “Sure, but try to be quick” 

As Anderson got out of the car to fill it up, Greg pulled out his phone and messaged Sherlock he would be arriving a few minutes later. Sherlock was irritated as it was with the response but even more so when he found out it was because of Anderson.

_Incompetent._

_Sherlock, he’s giving me a lift. Why don’t you relax a bit there._

And Sherlock didn’t respond. Greg could only chuckle at this and send a quick message to John. Greg felt the door of the car open but he had been far too preoccupied texting Sherlock and John that he didn’t notice Anderson getting back in the car. The car started and Lestrade lifted his gaze again only to be greeted by a familiar face he did not think he’d see again.

“Inspector!”, the almost clear green eyes bore into his, “Miss me?” he said sweetly as locked the doors as Greg tried to pry them open and escape.

“Oh no no, now” the man said, “You’re coming with me” 

And with that he bashed Greg’s head against the dash and knocked him out. 

\--------------

On the other side of the petrol station, Anderson was walking calmly to the space his regular car had been parked. He took out his real keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors and checked the glove compartment. There laid an envelope with his initials, he smiled, closed the glove compartment and started the car. Heading quickly to the scene.

\-------------

Sherlock and John had arrived promptly at the flat, but immediately Sherlock felt something off. There was tape surrounding the perimeter and other officers were quietly looking around, taking notes and pictures, surprisingly...calm. 

“Hey freak,” Donovan greeted as the duo stepped into the cramped apartment. “What are you doing here? Starting to get really desperate with the cases huh?”

Sherlock did not respond, only turning swiftly towards John, getting up in his face.

“John, something doesn’t feel right” Sherlock whispered.

“I know” John responded gulping.

“Get a room, _freak_!” Sally yelled across the room and Sherlock only mildly scoffed, far too concentrated in trying to figure out what was going on.

“They lied, whoever told Lestrade about this scene lied” Sherlock continued with a hushed voice, John could definitely feel his breath, “They knew that they needed something special to drag us out here, want _our_ attention...why?....Lestrade...hmmm...Lestrade’s flat tire, went with Anderson….yes, _intentional_. Anderson slashed his tire and offered him the ride. Stopped for petrol…” Sherlock's eyes went wide, “John they took Lestrade again...Anderson, he must have accepted some sort of compensation for this job, they knew they needed someone Mycroft wouldn’t question on the CCTV, someone he worked with wouldn't be suspicious.” 

Just then Anderson walked into the scene and Sherlock nearly pounced on him. 

“Where. Is. Lestrade.?” Sherlock snarled.

“Hey freak, whatever makes you think I was with him? Stain on my coat? The change in my gait?” Anderson mocked as he stepped closer.

“No…” Sherlock said, his hands curling into fists, “He texted me” 

Sherlock stepped closer to him and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. Anderson's eyes were darting around the room. “I-”

“Plus you smell of him...I don’t like repeating myself…” Sherlock was growling at the man and John could tell he was holding back with everyone ounce of his being.

“I don’t know” 

“Oh really?” Sherlock hissed and John came up from behind and landed a smooth blow across Anderson’s face.

Sherlock let go of his coat and started pulling out his phone shooting Mycroft a message and heading out the door. John followed quickly, shooting a deadly look to Anderson and muttering towards the group of detectives,   
  


“Arrest him”

\----------

Once outside Sherlock immediately pulled out his phone again to dial Mycroft’s number, but he was already receiving an incoming call from the elder Holmes. 

“Mycroft.”

“Sherlock what in the hell-”

“Mycroft, no time for this we’ve been _fooled_ , I need you to track Lestrade right now in case they remove his watch again” Sherlock quickly demanded “Send the details to John” and with that he hung up the phone and began walking towards the street to hail a cab.

John’s phone vibrated and showed the live location of Gregory’s trajectory. 

“We can still track him,” John told Sherlock a bit confused.

“It’s as I predicted” Sherlock told him looking straight ahead “He wants our attention, he knows we have the address of the warehouse he had Greg at, it's exactly where he is headed right now” Sherlock said as he pointed to John’s phone. 

“He wants us to follow...but not just us...he wants Mycroft” Sherlock says and finally a cab pulls up and they both slide into the car, giving the driver the address. 

“John..” Sherlock calls out quietly

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Do you have your _gun?”_

\---------------

Mycroft is promptly calling Anthea into his office. When she enters the room he is already putting on his coat. 

“Anthea, I need to get to Gregory.” he says in a rush.

“But sir-”

“Please deploy a team of special security to the address of the warehouse for backup” He pauses, “Ensure they don’t make a scene.” 

“Sir-” Anthea tries again

“Anthea I must go”, Mycroft says sternly, “I know that you are fully qualified and capable of being in charge for me until this is resolved.”

She nods and gives him a small smile before he is heading for the door and sliding into the black car.

\------------

Sherlock and John stop their cab a few minutes away from the warehouse so as to not draw attention to their arrival. Sherlock begins to walk towards the right of the large building and John heads left, slowly both are making their way inside. 

John is carefully walking with his back against a walk when he spots Mycroft stealthily walking in his direction.

“John-” he whispers and quickly John is pulling him towards the wall.

“What are you doing here Mycroft?” he hisses.

“What do you think doctor Watson”, he retorts in a frustrated tone. 

John scoffs, “Mycroft you need to get out of here _now,_ this guy wants _you_...wanted to lure all of us in...he could hurt you and gregory just...just leave now don’t give him what he wants” 

“But-”

“No Mycroft” John hisses again with a hushed tone, “Now. Leave.” John is pursing his lips as he starts pushing Mycroft back. Mycroft gives him an angry look but backs away and retreats until he is out of sight. John sighs and catches a glimpse of Sherlock from the other side, his steel blue eyes are icy cold, starring his soul. Sherlock gives him a nod and John responds with a tight smile.

\---------------

The warehouse is dark when Gregory awakens. He is sitting on the familiar chair, not bound, no tape over his mouth, just simply slumped against the chair. It’s musty and dingy, garage lights are poorly illuminating the large space. The invitation to get up and leave seems far too good to be real so Greg stays put on the chair and waits, the stillness in the air is unsettling and cold, he feels a shiver run down his spine. 

After a minute, he hears faint footsteps and tenses. The heavy sounds breaking the eerie silence, the thumping shaking the concrete floor slightly. Suddenly the walking stops and Gregory hears a deep sigh, then a voice that makes his stomach drop, booms off the walls. 

“Hello, Detective Inspector” the voice is smooth and honeyed, “Finally we meet.”

Gregory gulps and squeezes his eyes shut as he hears the footsteps approaching his direction.

“What Inspector?” David’s voice echoes, “Thinking closing your eyes will make me disappear?” he chuckles and continues “C’mon, I know you are far too _beautiful_ to lay your eyes on someone like me but I promise I’m not that bad.” 

Gregory feels a hand on his shoulder and his eyes fly open. Murky blue eyes are peering down at him, intense, like an ocean during a storm. He seems to be about Gregory’s age, sandy blond hair kept short and styled. He is tall and lean, wearing a nice blazer and shirt with no tie, similar in style to his captors. David offers him a warm smile but Greg just stares at him in the eyes, anger written all over his features. 

“See?” he questions removing his hand and stepping back, “Not so bad” 

“I’ve heard you haven’t been stopping by at Mycroft’s” he purrs, “Taking my advice Inspector?” he steps close again, towering over Greg who is still sitting on the chair. Greg grits his teeth but bites down on his tongue to prevent himself from reacting. The last thing he wants to do is grant David a reaction; to grant him power over Greg. He leans into his ear and whispers “You’re _welcome.”_

David pulls back and in one swiftly motion grasps Greg by his shoulders and jerks him upward to a standing position. He quickly steps behind and wraps his arm around Lestrade’s neck, almost choking him. Greg stumbles from the force of the action but David steadies him and presses him against his torso, breathing heavily onto his neck and Greg tenses at the unwelcomed closeness. Greg squirms and struggles in the hold, then suddenly feels something cool and sharp under his chin and stills immediately. 

“Tsk tsk, Inspector” David whines, “Stop being so difficult” he growls near his ear. “We have an audience” and Greg can practically hear his smile. Greg searches in the almost darkness for the audience David was referencing and from the corner of his eye spots Sherlock, walking in from the right side of the building. He enters smoothly, almost gliding across the concrete floor, a stern look on his face as he halts a few feet in front of them. Greg hears more shuffling, this time from the left. In comes John, meeting at Sherlocks side, hands behind his back. 

“Quite a performance indeed” Sherlock breaks the silence with his smooth baritone voice. 

“I’m glad you are enjoying” David smirks, “A pleasure to meet you Sherlock, and Doctor Watson of course” 

John simply nods before Sherlock is speaking again, “May I ask what your plans are with Lestrade” 

“Ohh not much” David says with a sigh, “Too pretty to kill him that’s for sure...no need to fear, _detective_...just waiting for someone” he giggles. 

“He’s not coming” Sherlock responds calmly.

“Oh pity” David’s voice is sweet, “Pity I know that's _not true_ ” 

“What’s the point?” Sherlock starts, glass blue eyes staring intensely into David’s stormy ones, “He never loved you and never will...you should know...he is not one to _change his mind_ ” 

Greg can feel David stiffen and push harder against the blade cutting Gregory slightly and drawing tiny droplets of blood. Greg yelps and tenses in David’s arms at the light sting. 

“Oops” he says, almost sounding genuine, “I didn’t mean for that to happen so soon dear inspector” 

“We are unarmed” Sherlock says evenly, hands clasping over each other in front of him, “You can drop the knife” 

“Alright” David replies easily and the knife drops to the floor with a clink, hitting the hard floor. He presses two fingers to Greg’s slightly open skin, catches the blood and blocks more from flowing down his neck.

“Mycroft will never be yours” Sherlock continues probing at David. There is a pause.

“Silly detective, I _know_ that.” David continues, “It’s not about me anymore...wanna see him _hurt”_

“I don’t believe that is possible” Sherlock delivers.

“In any case, detective, I can _try”_

Greg feels cool steel again, this time against his back, the heaviness of the gun had been against David’s waistband the whole time he just hadn’t noticed, distracted by the knife. It presses into him again and Greg shivers, fear running down his spine as he screws his eyes shut and gulps.

\----------------

Frustrated, Mycroft trudged back to his car, a short walk from the warehouse. He needed to get back in there. He slid into the car and the driver began to drive. 

“Where are you going?” Mycroft asked sternly.

“Sir I’ve been asked to return back to your home.”

“And who gave you permission for _that?”_ Mycroft was getting irritated. 

“Sir-” 

“You will turn around _now_ and I will enter through the back door” Mycroft’s cold voice demanded as he pulled out a black box from under his seat. Opening it, he slid a gun out of its velvet casing and felt the weight on it in his hand. It was a gift, from his father. It was a very nice weapon, personalized solely for Mycroft, the grip felt like a glove and it exuded elegance. He very rarely used it, mainly it was a symbol for him, a relic of a sort. The driver’s voice resonated again.

“But sir, for your safety-”

“You will do _as I say”_ Mycroft snarled “ _Now”_. With that the car turned around.

\--------------

Mycroft stealthily found the back door to the warehouse and slid through it effortlessly. Back pressed against the wall, he followed the narrow hall down the main room, where he heard faint voices. His body inched closer, listening intently to the commotion. He peered from his position on the wall and saw the gun pressed against Gregory’s back, he saw a tense Sherlock and John but held back for the moment, not wanting to trigger David further.

\--------------

Sherlock stood still as he saw the slight movement of David’s hand and Greg's reaction. 

“Whata catch don’t you think?” David asked, gesturing to Greg, holding him by the jaw now as the blood on his neck had dried. “Would be a shame if I had to result in such measures…” he trailed off.

“You don’t have to” Sherlock added

“Oh but that wouldn’t be fair now would it?” David said sweetly, “A heart for a heart…” 

In a swift motion Sherlock slid his hand behind John’s back and pulled his gun, clutching it with both hands and pointing it at David. He heard a chuckle as David shifted slightly so the gun was now aiming at Greg. Sherlock decided not to move, holding his gaze. Out of nowhere, David pulled his hand from Greg’s back, pointed the gun at his foot and before Sherlock could react, took two quick shots, random and clumsy in aim, hitting Greg’s foot and ankle. The loud bangs resonated in the warehouse.

“Greg!” John shouted, rushing over to his friend. Gregory’s face scrunched in agony as he cried out and crumpled to the floor, clutching at his foot. The searing pain was intolerable and he felt tears prickling in his eyes. John quickly stripped off his jacket, wrapping it around the bleeding foot and applying pressure. Gregory heaved and hissed in response but was too distraught to complain.

Sherlock flinched slightly but stayed focused, moving closer, gun still pointing at David’s face. David smiled at Sherlock pulling his gun and aiming it at him in return. He gazed down at the scene in front of him, Gregory hunched over in pain as John tended to his wound. David scoffed and in one swift movement kicked John square in the eye and nose making him yelp and fall back at the force of the attack. 

Sherlock tensed and cocked his gun, releasing the safety. Eyes tense piercing into David’s. 

\--------------

Mycroft reeled. From the other side, he fought back the urge of running in there at that moment and pulling Gregory into his arms with every ounce of his being. His heart almost burst at the sight of his lover crying out in pain. He resisted. He needed to disarm David without putting Sherlock or anyone else in danger. He carefully tried to angle his aim as to hit David and only David. 

\-------------

“Now that's not _fair_ ” Sherlock growled, “He has nothing to do with Mycroft” 

“Oh I think I’m far past fair at this point” David snarled in reply, “Where. Is. Mycroft?” 

“Not. here.” Sherlock replied irritated.

“You aren’t listening to me” David said, smirking.

“ _Where.”_

Mycroft steadied his hands. 

“ _Is”_

Removed the safety and cocked his gun.

“ _Mycroft_ ”

Another loud bang permeated through the walls. David’s gun hit the concrete with a loud clunk, his face contorted in pain as he clutched his hand. Sherlock swiftly kicked his gun away and pinned him to the ground as Mycroft rushed over to Greg, who was once again being tended to by John. The security team followed closely behind, taking over David from Sherlock’s tight grasp and quickly cuffing him. 

Mycroft crouched down in front of Greg, tenderly reaching out to touch his face. 

“Myc…” Greg tried but was too weak to continue, eyelids heavy.

“Gregory” Mycroft heaved, cradling Greg’s face in his hands gently “He’s gone now love, I’m going to _take care of it_ ….rest now” he said gently and Greg’s eyes finally fell shut. Mycroft shared a small, sad smile with John who patted him in the back as both men got up and let the paramedics place Greg on a stretcher. As the medics took Lestrade into the ambulance, Mycroft turned back to see David being brought up to his feet by the commander of his security. Mycroft gave him a brief nod and the commander started taking him away. Mycroft would deal with the course of action later. He quickly headed into the ambulance and took his position by Greg’s side, cradling his hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on every knuckle as they drove away to the hospital. He never once let go, only held it against his cheek squeezing tighter. 

Amidst the chaos, Sherlock made his way to John and fiercely took his face into his hands. John searched his light orbs and found a cast of worry reflecting back at him. Sherlock was looking at John's large bruise, blooming from his eye down to part of his nose.

“Are you alright” He asked, looking deeply into John’s eyes.

“Yes, yes Sherlock I’m fine” He responded, “Nothing compared to Greg, it’s alright” 

Sherlock eased his grip and stepped back, straightening his coat. John saw him retreat and quickly reached out to capture Sherlock’s hand in his. Sherlock eyed John, who only gestured for him to lead the way to the black car. He obeyed and pulled John along, sliding into the car and headed for the hospital. John slid his hand on Sherlock’s thigh, like he regularly did, and gave it a soft pat.

“Let’s get the hell out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew that was a ride...hope y'all enjoyed that. Next chapter up tomorrow. And as always, thanks so much for reading you beautiful lovely people <3 <3 <3


	11. Back In Your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a short fluffly hospital scene because I still wanted to post today because I'm not done with the final chapter!! Schools been a bit busy so here is something quick for y'all lovelies...until the next chapter!! I hope you like 🥰

Gregory has been taken into immediate care upon arrival at the hospital. Mycroft had ensured he got a private room and comfortable accomodations for his speedy recovery. He had to be taken to a brief surgery to remove the two bullets and stitch his wounds before he could rest in his room with Mycroft.

The elder Holmes was waiting rather impatiently in the sitting area. He would not be satisfied until he could hold Gregory in his arms and feel him be there, present, and alive. He wanted to press his hand against his chest and feel it rise and fall with his breaths and sense the thumping of his heart beat. Mycroft knew that Gregory had suffered far too much, a great sacrifice he had to make dating a Holmes. And yet despite it all, he was still here, wanting to be with Mycroft. The thought had the ginger swooning, his heart felt full. Mycroft praised Greg for taking it with stride but promised himself to never let anything of the sort happen ever again to his doting lover. 

After an hour, the doctor emerged from Gregory’s room, holding a chart, and before he could utter a word, Mycroft was already halfway through the door to greet his love. 

“Myc…”, Gregory smiled from his bed, eyes slightly droopy from the sedatives, but kind and welcoming regardless. 

“Gregory”, Mycroft called out to him as he walked to his bedside.

“Please tell me you’ll stay this time”, Gregory whispered, “No funny business” 

Mycroft sat down on the chair next to the bed and reached out to cradle Greg’s hand gently. 

“Of course I’ll stay”, Mycroft said kissing Greg’s hand and looking into his chocolate orbs warmly, “That first time you were here...you have no idea how much I need to just...just...hold you and apologize for all you went through.” 

Mycroft pauses and sighs, “I’m sorry I did what I had to do...none of that now”, he says with finality as he stands and presses a soft kiss on Greg’s forehead, “I’m here to stay forever.”

“Good”, Greg murmurs, basking in the kisses Mycroft was gifting him. 

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Would you like me to leave so you can rest?”, Mycroft began to ask anxiously. 

“No love, issalright” Greg said tugging Mycroft back down onto the chair and ran his thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing manner, “Don’t feel much pain now, feel alright, a bit drowsy but I don’t wanna sleep.” 

Mycroft nodded but protested, “Gregory you should sleep, resting will make it easier for you to heal.”

Greg huffed, “But I juss wanna talk to you”, he was lightly slurring on his words, “And also…” he trailed off a bit, “I think I need to use the loo.”

Mycroft looked up at him, “Now?”

“Yes…” Greg blushed a little, “Help me please?...I can’t get up.”

Mycroft immediately rose to his feet and ever so carefully started pulling the blankets back and adjusting the tubes Gregory was receiving fluids from. Greg noticed a half emptied bag of blood not far away from his cart and grew curious. 

“Blood?” Greg questioned.

“You had to receive a transfusion” Mycroft says as he is tugging at some of the chords, “Very little blood needed but it was still recommended by the doctor to ensure circulation in your foot could get back to normal quickly and dissipate any risk of amputation”

Gregory is looking at the half used bag still, squinting his eyes faintly making out _MH_. “Your blood?” 

“We have the same type….better mine than some  _ strangers _ ” Mycroft responds distastefully. 

“You are  _ mad, _ ” Greg says in pure shock and disbelief, then he shakes his head, “You Holmes’...I will never understand…”

Mycroft is gently reaching under Lestrade’s shoulders, easing him up to a sitting position carefully. Greg winces a bit at the movement but urges Mycroft to hurry. Gently, again, Mycroft is pulling Greg’s good leg to the edge of the bed followed with extreme care by his bandaged foot. Mycroft hoists Gregory up into a standing position very slowly and Greg feels wobbly. He heaves as he tries to put some weight on his good leg but feels quite weak still. Mycroft holds his full weight patiently waiting for Greg to adjust to standing again. Once he finds strength in his leg, he gives Mycroft a tight smile and a nod and his lover is shifting to hold Greg from behind, still feeling Greg put his weight on him for support as he steps tentatively into the bathroom. Greg grips the wall with one hand while Mycroft gives him some space, only holding his hip for support with his hand. 

Once Greg is done, Mycroft carefully lifts him in his arms and carries him back to his bed seeing him far too exhausted from the energy it took to walk the 2 steps to the bathroom. Mycroft gently lays Greg on the bed and tucks him in with his covers.

“Thank you, love” Gregory murmurs absolutely spent.

“No need to thank me, darling”, Mycroft says softly, stroking his flushed cheeks. Greg smiled at the endearment.

“Rest now” Mycroft murmurs, now running his hands through his favorite silver locks, “You are still in a bit of shock from the trauma injury.”

“But ion wanna stop...don’t want you to go way”, Gregory’s eyelids are not cooperating, they are getting heavier by the second. 

“I’ll be here when you wake” Mycroft whispers

“My love”

Mycroft presses a kiss over Greg’s heart.

“My life” 

He presses a kiss on his forehead.

“My breath”

A peck on his nose.

“My  _ everything _ ”

Greg feels the feathery touch of Mycroft’s lips on his and finally lets his eyes slip closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be up soon! Working on it right now <3, sorry it will take longer than anticipated but I want it to be good :)!


	12. The Wrath of Mycroft Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!! This chapter is pretty graphic, y'all asked for Mycroft to give David what he deserved and I tried my best to deliver! It was quite hard to write, but anywayyyy...This is the END! We've made it! I sincerely hope y'all enjoyed this fic, it's my first and I feel like I've already grown as a writer. Thank you for reading and sharing your kind comments, it means the absolute world to me! <3 <3 <3

After a couple days, Greg was cleared from the hospital and he was able to go back home, his  _ real home _ , with Mycroft.

He couldn't walk very well and used crutches to move around the house. Mycroft had insisted staying home to watch over Gregory but his lover did not accept, Mycroft had been gone from work for far too long and Anthea was far too underpaid to be performing his tasks any longer. 

It certainly was not very fun for Greg, being home alone and partially immobile. He couldn’t even practice his favorite hobby of cooking for Mycroft and himself. 

Mycroft would be lying if he said Gregory was a bad cook, because goodness was he the opposite of that. Where he got the talent from, Mycroft had no idea, but he was not complaining. He relinquished the taste of Gregory’s food and in return, Mycroft exercised his very own talent: washing the dishes. Greg chuckled thinking of the first Mycroft had found out about his secret. He remembered exactly what Mycroft had told him

_ “Nobody at your job would believe me if I said you were cooking right now” _

He had said, and Gregory had laughed because it was true. No one would believe Greg, who loved watching football matches with his  _ mates _ , drinking beer at the pub and putting his feet up on the coffee table, could take interest in cooking _. _ But he did, and his little bizarre skill would remain secret. 

He was sprawled on the couch when Mycroft got home one week after his discharge from the hospital. He heard the jingling of the keys at the door and sat up, looking expectantly in the direction his lover was about to walk in from. After a second the door swung open and in strode Mycroft in all his glory. Gregory perked up and greeted him excitedly, like a puppy who had missed his favorite person the whole day.

“Hello love!” Greg greeted as he attempted to get up. 

Mycroft rushed to him and offered his support as Greg got onto his good leg and wrapped his arms around his warm lover. 

“I missed you terribly”, responded Mycroft, holding Gregory close to his chest.

“As did I”, Greg sighed as he dropped back down on the couch and Mycroft started removing his jacket and waistcoat, “Can’t go to work, can’t move to get up and kiss you, can’t even enjoy the peace of making dinner, bugger this” he said, frowning.

Mycroft approached him where he was sitting again and lowered down next to his lover, sliding his arm on top of the sofa.

“Gregory you seriously cannot be worrying about this, you need to recuperate before attempting any of that, darling”, Mycroft sighs, “It’s not your fault, and I apologize you are in this position, there is nothing you should be worrying about alright?” he murmurs and places a kiss on Greg’s head as the silvered haired man slides into the crook of Mycroft’s neck. It's warm,  _ oh so warm.  _

They sit in silence for a bit, Mycroft rubbing gentle circles on Greg’s back and Greg curling his arm around Mycroft’s abdomen. Suddenly Mycroft’s voice interrupts the silence.

“Gregory?”, He calls out.

“Hmmm?” Greg hums in response, eyes closed as he breathes the scent of Mycroft’s cologne.

“You love me” He said, almost as a question. 

“‘Course” Greg murmurs without hesitation.

“How did you do it?” Mycroft’s voice is filled with wonder.

“Do what?”

“How did you make the sun’s rays shine in places they had never reached before?”, Mycroft’s voice is barely audible.

“I pushed the clouds away, love”, Gregory whispers and snuggles closer, his heart full.

\----------------

The interrogation room is an eerie, dark place. Bright lights contradict the black walls. This isn’t a dingy, rundown police station interrogation room, quite far from it. It's pristine. The floors are a polish obsidian marble and the fortified walls appear to be  _ soundproof. _ David sits in a cool, steel chair, hands cuffed and resting on the smooth ebony table lined with gold accents. It’s terrifying. The air is still, but that only lasts for a moment. 

The heavy door boomed as it creaked open, a guard holding it open for someone else who was shuffling just outside the door. David lifted his gaze and his eyes fell upon the intruder. Gregory was still limping from his injuries, but strode into the room with grace regardless, a small smirk on his face, he exuded confidence. After a bit more shuffling, he settled on the chair across from David, running his hands over the smooth ebony and promptly resting his chin on his tented hands. 

“David!”, he said, emulating the sweet tone the other man had used on him, “How’s your hand? bloody burns getting shot...Mycroft’s got mighty good aim doesn’t he?”

David only shifted in his chair and glared at Gregory through the blond locks that had fallen over his face. 

Lestrade leaned in, “You know, I  _ almost  _ feel bad for you…” he trailed off chuckling lightly.

“You are in for the  _ wrath _ of Mycroft Holmes” Gregory growled and leaned back on the chair. “Which means this might be the  _ last _ time...we... _ see  _ each other”, he offered him a smile.

Greg began to rise from his chair, “I don’t like the way you messed with my heart and I  _ certainly  _ don’t appreciate the stress you put my Mycroft through.”

Lestrade is now standing next to David, peering down on him with dark eyes. “You’re wrong you know?” Greg grabs him by the chin and forces him look into his eyes, “You said he never loved me...truth is he never loved  _ you”  _

The sharp sound of Greg’s hand colliding with David’s cheek resonated through the room. “Hmm why don’t we make that even?” Greg pondered and landed another slap on David’s other cheek, and it started flushing red to match the other one. Gregory straightened up and smiled at David one last time before disappearing behind the door. 

Gregory approached Mycroft in a light waddle. He reached out to him and wrapped his arms around his neck. Mycroft automatically curled his arms around Greg’s waist, holding him close. 

“Your turn, love”, Greg murmured into his neck where he was currently nuzzling his nose. “Now, now, Myc...be  _ nice _ ”, Mycroft huffed an airy laugh.

“I will make no such  _ promise _ ”, He said as he peeled himself off his warm lover and headed towards the door. 

\-------------

_ “Father, why have you gifted me this?”  _

_ A young Mycroft pondered, holding the grip and examining the fine craftsmanship of the handgun with curious eyes. It was heavy and elegant, it almost felt criminal to hold it and use it so freely.  _

_ “It is a reminder” His father stated from his chair, not once sparing him a glance. _

_ “What of?” _

_ “Strength”, He said with finality. _

_ “Why strength?” _

_ His father sighed readjusting on his chair, “This weapon is not loaded. Why do you think that is?” _

_ “It’s not meant to hurt?”  _

_ “That’s right, it is merely a symbol of one’s power” He said, “A man who uses a gun is strong, but I man who chooses not to use is his gun, is stronger” _

_ “Why, father?” _

_ “Feel its weight in your hand. That is the weight of life. It lays at your hand, in an instant you can take someone else's, do you think that’s satisfying?” _

_ “No” _

_ “And why is that?” his father prodded. _

_ “You don’t get to see the person suffer” Mycroft answered obediently, “It’s too fast” _

“ _ Good”, his father responded, “Next time you find yourself reaching for it, use it not to defend what you stand for, rely not on its strength, but on your own...that’s your reminder.” _

_ His father got up from his chair and grabbed his coat, “Always take matters into your own hands...revenge is always personal”, he murmured and disappeared through the door.  _

_ The 8 year old Mycroft sat by the fireplace examining the carving on the hand gun, running his small fingers over the engraved name: Mycroft Holmes.  _

_ \--------------- _

The heavy door opens again with a boom. Mycroft strides elegantly into the room. He is a towering character. Three piece suit perfectly tailored to his silhouette, not a hair out of place, polished shoes, posh watch...even his cufflinks are the embodiment of superiority and class. He does simply step into a room, he  _ glides,  _ oozing confidence, he is the commander of any situation he is placed in. There will be no one to mess with Mycroft Holmes. They would not  _ survive  _ it. 

Mycroft sits down in the chair with purpose, every movement is meaningful and every second that passes becomes increasingly dreadful. He reaches inside his exquisite suit jacket and pulls out his handgun, placing it gently onto the table right in front of him. 

_ “A reminder.” _

_ “Revenge is always personal.” _

_ “Take matters into your own hands.” _

He leans back into the chair, laying his interlaced hands over his crossed knee. His silky smooth voice interrupts the chilling silence. 

“Are you  _ blushing _ ?” He asks, noting the puffed red cheeks that had taken Greg’s assault, “That happy to see me are we?” Mycroft snarls.

David shifts his gaze and looks up into Mycroft’s blue orbs. Mycroft merely squints and leans a bit closer.

“Who  _ are you?”,  _ Mycroft asks cruelly, testing the man in front of him, trying to get on his nerves.

“ _ You- _ …”, David hisses in response, stopping himself from uttering profanity, before evening his voice and asking, “Are you going to shoot me?”

Mycroft only chuckles and shakes his head lightly, “Oh no.” he answers simply, “That would be far too  _ easy? _ ” 

Mycroft looks at ease sitting on the chair, “You see I don’t even know who you are...and you’ve managed to  _ hurt _ the most important person in my life. The only man I love, I dare say. You took him away from me, you lied to me and made me feel like a  _ fool.  _ You think you’re going to get it easy? Just a bullet through your head?...no no, that would not be fair to my Gregory, he was so strong for me...never once stopped loving...he is far too generous you know?”

“I don’t”, David answers bitterly, “What do you see in him? Pathetic beer-bellied dumbass, probably couldn't count to ten if he tried” he spits out.

Mycroft immediately rises and leans over the table, inches away from his face. “What did you call him?...You must be bold making such statements in my presence, do you even know what’s about to befall you?” Mycroft growls, absolutely fuming, “ _ No one _ will speak ill of the man  _ I love _ , do you understand?”

David doesn’t have the time to respond before he feels a harsh grip on his hair and his forehead banging against the dark ebony wood. Blood trickling down from his temple. Mycroft leans back, straightening his suit. He calmly walks towards David's side, footsteps light as a feather. He yanks him up by the arm and swiftly pushes him against the wall, pressing his umbrella over his neck, David yelps in response, his face getting red from the lack of oxygen. Mycroft drops the umbrella and chokes him with his hand, leaving finger tip shaped bruises along David’s neck, who is gasping desperately for breath. Just when David is starting to turn pale, Mycroft releases his grip and lets him fall to the ground, wheezing for air urgently. Mycroft cocks his head to one side innocently and lands a strong kick to his diaphragm knocking the air out of him further. 

Mycroft’s eyes were cold and unforgiving. 

“Gregory told me to be  _ nice”  _ Mycroft says, “Usually I’m a very complaint partner...I love him to pieces, but I think this time...I won’t grant his wishes.” 

He leans down and yanks David by the hair again, earning a weak cry. Mycroft drops him back down to the floor and removes his suit jacket, draping it delicately over the chair. Calmly he undoes his cuffs and rolls back the sleeves of his expensive dress shirt. 

He leans in close and whispers into his ear, “You are going to wish you never laid your  _ filthy  _ hands on Gregory for the rest of your _ pathetic _ life” he hisses and drives a fist square on his nose. David yelps again, trying to catch the streaming blood with his shaking hands, but fails as Mycroft is already throwing a jaw breaking blow. The blond cries out clutching his mutilated jawbone, taking in sharp breaths through his bloody nose. 

Mycroft yanks him to his feet and slams him against the wall again, taking a few random blows at the utterly spent David. He can barely stand and Mycroft is grasping him by the collar of his blazer, driving his knee into his stomach. David’s face is crumpling in pain but is far too weak to fight back. Mycroft releases his grip and the shorter man slides to the floor coughing violently. While he tried in vain to catch his breath, Mycroft reached for his umbrella which was abandoned on the table. 

Ever so carefully he tilts David’s face with the tip of the umbrella and looks into his stormy blue eyes. Mycroft’s expression is stone cold. He uses his umbrella to push David’s face to the side and shoves onto his back on the ground. Slowly he draws his umbrella down David’s face and neck and finally settles on his right collarbone. Mycroft feels the man’s pulse and heavy breathing below him and lightly taps on the collarbone, before pressing harder, and harder and suddenly…

_ Crunch _

David’s already bloodied face contorts in pain as he screams agonisingly. A cry that pierces the room, blocked out to the outside by the soundproof walls. Before he can manage to catch a breath, Mycroft is tapping at his fingers, crushing one knuckle then one more, slowly cracking and crunching until he reaches the last one, then steps over his entire broken and mutilated hand before finally stopping. It's swelling an angry red as David’s sobs of anguish permeate through the four walls. Shaking on the floor from the torture Mycroft had inflicted upon him. 

Mycroft rolls his sleeves back down, placing his cufflinks back one and sliding into his suit. Checking the time on his pocket watch he picks up his umbrella again, tucks in his hand gun and strides towards the door. He turns one last time before exiting.

“I hope you don’t have family”, He murmurs softly, “No visitors allowed where _you_ are going.” 

And with that he slips out of the room as if nothing had happened. 

\------------

It’s around 8:30 at night when Mycroft arrives back home after work.  _ Back to normal  _ he thinks as he glides out of the black car and begins making his way down the path to the main entrance of their home. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door, twisting the knob and slides into the foyer.

Sweet aroma wafts from the kitchen, filling the whole house. Mycroft sighs contently and smiles at the thought of Greg making a weeknight dinner for them to share again. He had gone back to work, solving cases and dealing with an irritating Sherlock and a very sorry Doctor Watson. Yet, he still carved out time to make a meal for them, even if he was tired or had a bad day. Gregory was an angel in Mycroft’s eyes. 

Mycroft hung his coat on the rack and made his way into the kitchen. There stood Greg, eyes furrowed in concentration as he stirred at the pot, the tip of his tongue sticking upwards from the corner of his sealed lips.  _ Utter perfection,  _ Mycroft thought as he sneaked up behind his beloved and snaked his arms around his waist like he always did. Gregory, startled, jumped at the contact but relaxed into the embrace when he got a whiff of Mycroft’s cologne. They stood in silence for a while as Gregory stirred their dinner and Mycroft laid his head on his shoulder, peppering kisses every now and then. Greg finally broke the silence.

“Hi, love”, he murmured softly.

“Hello, my dearest”, Mycroft purred in response.

“How was work? Long day?”

Mycroft sighed, “Yes but you know how that is already, darling”, he said as he clung tighter to Greg’s waist.

“Smells heavenly”, Mycroft praised, “May I ask what you are preparing for dinner?”

“ _ Boeuf Bourguignon _ ”, he responded with a soft smile.

“Your french is certainly getting better,  _ mon coeur _ ”, Mycroft smiled, “Perhaps we should return to France for more practice.”

Greg let out a laugh and shook his head lightly. He picked up a spoon and dipped it into the pot, gathering a bit of beef and sauce on it and blowing lightly.

“Try this for me, baby”

Mycroft scowled in disgust, “ _ baby? _ ” and proceeded to bring the spoon to his mouth, moaning at the taste. The beef was perfectly tender, it fell apart in his mouth and the taste of their favorite wine lingered on his taste buds.

“Yes,  _ baby _ ”, Greg continued, “After  _ all  _ I went through and you won’t let me call you a simple endearment. I must demand you tell me why I cannot this instant, Mycroft Holmes” he said sternly.

Mycroft scoffed, “Because…Gregory…”

“I’m waiting”, Greg responded, not sparing him a glance. 

“Because...it's so... _ pedestrian”  _ Mycroft complained, “And furthermore... _ childish _ ” he concluded.

“Pedestrian and childish?”, Greg huffed, “What would you suggest is an endearment that would be appropriate then?” 

Mycroft shuffles for a moment.

“How about…”, He trails off, hands shaking and palms sweaty “... _ Husband?”  _

“What?”, Greg finally tears his gaze away from the steaming pot to find Mycroft down on one knee on the ground before him, a small black box cradled in his hand. Greg can hear his heart beat in his ears. 

“My sweetest Gregory”, Mycroft begins, looking up into the chocolate orbs he adores so dearly, “I intended for a grand way of asking you this question, a gesture the size of your heart, one worthy of you and your eternal perfection. But...in this moment, it felt like the timing could never be better. Just you and me, the way, I believe, it should be always. Gregory Lestrade, you have gifted me the greatest gift ever imaginable, you have taught me what it feels like to love and to be loved. And darling, the way you love me, with all your being, that...I never knew would be possible, too good to be true. You’ve become a part of me, one that is indispensable, being away from you made me realize I could  _ survive  _ without you, but I would not be  _ living.  _ I want to make a million promises to you, Gregory, that I am not sure I can keep. But you make me want to try...try the impossible, try  _ everything _ .”

Greg’s eyes are soft and his heart is melting at the words that are coming from Mycroft's mouth. 

“You are the sun that illuminates my constantly dark days. You are my heartbeat and you are my breath. I will promise to always cherish you, protect you and make you  _ happy,  _ if you let me. And I’d rather I lose my mind, my will to live and my honor than to lose my ability to love you. My soul shall not rest when it comes to loving you, my darling. I ask you, humbly, to be mine forever, with this ring, and I shall be yours to keep for eternity. Will you accept, my beloved?”

Mycroft’s eyes are searching Greg’s expectantly.

“Of course”, he whispers, not trusting his voice, “It would be the greatest honor.”

Mycroft gracefully rises to his feet and slides the simple, yet lovely titanium band over Gregory’s finger. The inside engraved:  _ Mycroft Holmes.  _ And Greg smiles to himself,  _ ah always so possessive, husband mine.  _ Mycroft leans in and they share a delicate, loving kiss. 

"I'll have the inside of my ring engraved with your name", Mycroft mumbles into Greg's silver locks, deducing what Greg was thinking about.  “You’ll also officially be listed as my civil partner at work and my security privileges will extend to you.” Mycroft explains, craddeling Gregory in his arms and pressing a peck on his forehead.

“Is that the only reason you are doing this, Myc?”, Greg questions, almost teasingly.

“Don’t be silly, darling mine”, Mycroft scolds, “If I had wanted only that, I would’ve married you after our first date.”

Mycroft feels the vibration of Greg’s laugh against his chest and smiles, chuckling himself. He feels Greg lean slightly out of the embrace to turn the stove off. 

“Dinner’s ready,  _ husband to be _ ”, Greg murmurs tenderly. Mycroft gives him a loving glance before responding.

“I can’t wait” 

\-----------------

Later at night, while tucked away in the safety of their shared bed and almost at the brink of sleep, Greg shifts against Mycroft’s chest to look into his lover’s eyes.

“What is the problem, dearest?”, the ginger question through heavy eyelids.

“Just thinking about the  _ massive  _ fit Sherlock is going to pitch when he finds out I’m going to become his  _ brother-in-law.”  _

He hears Mycroft snort and mumble under his breath,

“We’ll let John deal with that one”

And then both drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phewwww long chapter! What did y'all think? I honestly don't know if some of these parts even made sense but I'm super happy with the way this fic turned out and I'm proud it is my first. I hope to continue writing Mystrade and maybe some Johnlock too! Thanks again for reading, I appreciate every single, hit, comment and kudos. Y'all are the best! 🥰🥰🥰

**Author's Note:**

> Again this is my first fic ever and I'm nervous! I hope you guys enjoy it's about to get more interesting I promise.


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